She knows nothing.

She thinks I only robbed him, and she has a neck to save.

She shall come to me--over there.

But Irma--she follows her lover, by and by." It was nine o'clock, the streets were dark and dismal, and a heavy rain was falling, when a carriage drew up before No.

192 Layte Street.
The driver was huddled up in his oilskins and scarcely glanced toward the muffled form of the woman who was tenderly assisted into the vehicle by the sturdy Leah and her male companion.
As the door closed, Fritz Braun sharply gave the driver his last injunction.