The Senator's Favorite. Alex. McVeigh Miller

it to Ethel, while his dismal yelps said as plain as words:

      "My darling little mistress is somewhere near to us, but I cannot find her. Help me! oh, help me!"

      Mrs. Warwick stared at both in horror, for the fatal truth dawned on her mind. This girl was the sister of the captive upstairs, and the faithful dog had penetrated the mystery.

      While she was collecting her scattered self-possession Ethel turned to her, exclaiming agitatedly:

      "My sister is in this house, a prisoner! Lead me to her at once."

      The expression of fear on Mrs. Warwick's face changed to one of cunning, and she cried sullenly:

      "Lady, I don't know what you mean! What would your sister be doing in this old house, where nobody lives but me? That glove was left here a week ago by a beautiful young lady that wanted her fortune told. I kept it, a-thinking she'd likely come back for it, but she never did."

      "The girl was my sister. Did she come alone?" asked Ethel, fancying that perhaps her maid had told Precious about the fortune-teller, too. It made the woman's story sound plausible.

      "That dog makes me nervous. But get him to stop his racket, and I'll tell you all about the girl."

      Ethel pressed Kay's head down upon her knee, and soothed him until his sharp, impatient yelps subsided into low, dismal whining, and then the woman said:

      "It was Inauguration night, about midnight, I guess, that I was aroused by a couple, a pretty, blue-eyed girl in white, with long yellow curls, and a handsome young man. They told me they had run away from the ball to get married, and the girl was afraid of her father, and wanted me to tell her if he would ever forgive her for doing it. It seemed as how he was a swell, and rich, but her young man was poor, and worked for a living. I read the cards for them, and told them to go ahead, that the old man would come round and take them home to live in the grand mansion. The girl laughed for joy, and the young man paid me a double fee, then they went away in their carriage, and presently I found the girl's glove on the floor where she had dropped it."

      Her story had a plausible sound, but Ethel looked at her suspiciously, and said:

      "The girl's description answers to that of my sister, Precious Winans, who was abducted from the Inauguration Ball; but there is something strange about your story, for my sister was not willing to marry the man. I'm certain of that."

      "Then it couldn't be the same young lady, for the one I saw here was desperate fond of her young man, I'm sure," returned the woman maliciously, hoping that this falsehood would help her son's cause with the senator.

      "It is very strange," said Ethel, with a perplexed air, for she did not believe in her heart that Precious was in love with anybody. She rose abruptly, restraining Kay by a hand on his silver collar. "I will take the glove to papa and tell him what you have told me. Perhaps it may give him a clew."

      "Oh, but, miss, I haven't told your fortune yet. Just stay a little longer, and keep that brute quiet, and I'll go into a trance, and tell you all you want to know."

      Ethel paused irresolute. She did not really have much faith in the old woman's powers of divination, but she was curious, and—"the woman who hesitates is lost."

      The fortune-teller threw herself into a chair, leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and feigned sleep.

      Ethel, with her hand on Kay's collar, waited nervously.

      Soon the woman began to mutter, like one asleep.

      And as she was very angry at Ethel for coming there and getting her into what she foresaw would be a very bad scrape, she determined to give the young lady a very grewsome fortune. She accordingly began:

      "You have a rich and handsome lover, and every girl in Washington has envied you, but now they laugh in derision."

      Ethel started violently, her dark eyes flashing luridly.

      "They laugh," continued the pretended clairvoyant, "because another girl has cut you out with your grand lover. He has almost forgotten you already, and worships the blue eyes and golden hair of his new love."

      She heard a repressed gasp of agony that assured her that the chance shot had hit the mark, but her malice was not satiated yet, and she continued solemnly and dreamily:

      "You will have a bad, black, bitter future. Your jealous hate of your successful rival will cause you to commit a crime. I cannot tell you for certain whether you will be sent to prison or hung for it, for I cannot clearly read the jurors' minds; besides, much will depend on the great influence of your powerful relations, so I don't know exactly how much punishment you will get, but it is written in the book of fate that you will sin and you will suffer."

      It was the merest malicious jargon, guess-work, based on Ethel's first statement that she had lost her lover's heart, but it struck home to Ethel's proud, passionate heart with the awful certainty of prophecy. She trembled with terror, and the cold dew of fear started out on her brow, beneath the dark wavy tresses of her rich hair. With an effort she shook the woman's shoulder loathingly.

      "Wake up! I don't want to hear any more of your dismal stuff! I'm going," she cried imperiously.

      Mrs. Warwick shuddered, gasped, and seemed to come out of a deep sleep. Her guest was already going through the doorway into the hall.

      Just then Kay broke from Ethel's grasp, and bounded up the rickety stairs to the narrow passageway above. They heard him, reared up on his hind feet, beating with his fore-paws on a door, and barking furiously.

      "Call your dog down, or I will kill him!" shrieked the woman.

      "You will not dare to do it. Papa brought him from Europe for my sister, and he cost several hundred dollars," answered Ethel quickly, but she stood at the foot of the stairway and called the mastiff repeatedly, first persuasively, then authoritatively.

      But one tone had no more effect than the other.

      Kay continued his vociferous barking, and the sound of his huge body as he hurled it against the resisting door echoed through the house.

      "The brute is devilish! If I had a pistol I'd shoot him, even if he cost ten thousand dollars!" vowed the irate fortune-teller.

      "I will go and bring him down," cried Ethel, but the woman pushed her away.

      "No, no! you must not go up there! He is only after my big cat! I will go myself, and drive him down!"

      "But you must not strike him. Precious never allowed any one to strike him," Ethel called anxiously.

      The woman did not answer; she rushed on, and caught up a stick in the hall. Furious with anger she brought it down on Kay's back.

      There was a savage howl of pain and fury.

      The petted mastiff that had never felt the weight of a blow in his life, turned glaring red eyes on his assailant, and sprang at her ferociously.

      In a minute she was down under the huge paws.

      Ethel heard the blow, the savage howl of the startled dog, the fall of the woman's body on the floor, borne down by Kay's strong paws, then strangling shrieks:

      "Help! Help! He will kill me!"

      The girl bounded up the stairs and saw the infuriated Kay at the throat of the prostrate woman.

      With a cry of horror Ethel caught his collar in both hands, trying to drag him off.

      But Kay resisted all the efforts of her puny strength, and the contest must have ended in a tragedy but for a sudden happening.

      From within the closed and locked door where Kay had been struggling to effect an entrance sounded a low, clear, eager voice:

      "Kay! Kay! come to Precious!"

      The woman on the floor was kicking, struggling, shrieking, and the dog, with his paws on her breast had his fangs at her throat, but at that sweet, clear voice everything changed on the instant.

      The dog, with his jaws wide open, emitted a howl of savage joy, and leaped upward to the height of a man, then turned from the woman and back to the door. His victim scrambled to her feet, her garments hanging in tatters, her