CHAPTER V.

A CHINESE GIRL STEALER.

When Ralph Moore, Marion’s brother-in-law, opened the door he was astonished to find her trembling with terror.

“Why, sister, I thought you were not coming home to-night,” he began, but the girl stopped him with a quick explanation.

“Carlotta trapped me,” she said, hotly, “but I escaped from her safely! Now, who do you suppose that fellow was, the dreadful creature that just grabbed my arm right here on the steps. My shriek must have frightened you awfully, brother.”

Ralph Moore looked up and down the street, but there was no one in sight, so in another minute they went up to his apartment.

Dollie Marlowe, or Dollie Moore, as she was now, had been married only three weeks, but her little flat already had a homelike look, and both she and her husband were radiantly happy.

As Marion had said, Dollie’s face was the prettier of the two, but it was a babyish prettiness that meant weakness and uncertainty, while Marion’s was the glorious beauty of decision.

As Marion told them of her evening’s experience Dollie’s rosy cheeks paled, while Ralph Moore ran his fingers through his black curls in excitement.

“What a bad, wicked woman,” cried the little bride, indignantly. “To think of her subjecting you to such an insult. Why, she is a disgrace to her sex, isn’t she, darling?”

“She is indeed,” was her husband’s fond answer as he stopped in his excited pacing to and fro, to kiss his wife’s soft, dimpled shoulder.

“It is a shame that our dear sister should have to come in contact with such a creature, and to think that Marion was trying to do her a kindness.”

Marion had removed her hat and unbound her beautiful hair, and now sat sipping a cup of chocolate that Dollie had hurriedly made for her.

“What puzzles me most is that man,” she said, thoughtfully. “Oh, what a terrible face he had—it was hideously scarred and disfigured.”

“He was probably drunk,” was her brother-in-law’s answer. “And no doubt he mistook you for some one else. I’ll tell the officer on the beat to keep a look-out for him in future.”

“Well, it is very evident that there was no officer on the beat to-night,” said Marion, laughing, “for I screamed as loudly as I possibly could, and I only succeeded in awakening the echoes.”

“Oh, the cop was probably in the corner saloon,” said Ralph Moore, disgustedly; “still, it’s lucky you screamed and scared the fellow. No one knows what he might have done if you hadn’t, sister.”

“Oh, I have some news for you,” said Dollie, suddenly. “I got a letter from our old friend, Bert Jackson, to-day. He is coming home to be ready to sail for Europe with his foster-father next week, and in the fall he is going to college.”

“That is good news,” said Marion, with a happy smile. “I wondered why we hadn’t heard from Bert since your wedding, but I suppose he has been having such a good time with his new parents in Canada that he did not have time to write to his old friends.”

“He is a lucky boy,” said Dollie, thoughtfully. “Why, just think, only a few months ago he was a waif in a county poor farm! Oh, how lucky it was that he ran away. It is not every poor orphan that has such good fortune.”

“And I am so glad that I helped him to escape,” said her sister, laughing. “I gave him five dollars the night he ran away—it was all I had, for I was only a country girl then, and you know, sister, that our father did not give us much money.”

“Poor old dad,” said Dollie, with the tears springing to her eyes. “He has been a different man since you paid off the mortgage on the farm, Marion. Mother says he is so gentle that we would hardly know him.”

This illusion to one of Marion’s many noble deeds made the fair girl very happy. It had been the greatest pleasure of her life to be able to pay off that mortgage on the homestead.

“It is a pity that it took him so long to learn that ‘gentleness is best,’” she said, sadly. “Poor old father would have been far happier if he had learned it earlier. We would have all been happier in our life in the country.”

They sat and talked a little while longer, then retired for a few hours’ rest before daylight.

When Marion awoke in the morning she found that Ralph had already bought the morning papers, and, as usual, she glanced them over before eating her breakfast.

“Oh, how kind the critics are to me,” she said as she read the notice of her singing in the _Star_. “And how dreadfully they speak of Carlotta, saying that her voice has lost its freshness, and all that sort of thing, I can hardly blame the woman for disliking me.”

“Well, she has let her professional jealousy go too far,” said Ralph, hotly. “When she tries such tricks as she did last night it is high time she was halted.”

“I guess Mr. Graham will read her a lecture to-day,” said Marion, slowly, “It remains to be seen what effect it has upon her.”

“Here is a dreadful thing,” said Dollie, who was glancing over a part of the paper. “A young girl has just been rescued from an opium den. It seems she was stolen by Chinamen and kept a prisoner in one of their houses.”

“Oh, that sort of thing happens every day,” said her husband, quickly. “There’s a tremendous traffic in ‘white slaves,’ as they call them. Those yellow devils have a mania for white girls in this country.”

“I think it is horrible,” said Marion, shuddering. “It is almost incredible that such horrors can exist in a Christian country.”

“Nevertheless they do,” said Ralph, a little absently. He was busy at that moment reading the rest of the article. Suddenly he almost sprang from his chair at the breakfast table, and a look of horror overspread his countenance.

“Quick, Marion! Describe that fellow that you saw last night on the steps. Was he small and black, and was his face all scars, and was there anything about him that looked like a Chinaman?”

Marion thought a little before she answered.

“He certainly was small and had a yellowish skin, and his face was all scars, and his eyes black and beady. Come to think of it, he did look like a Chinaman, Ralph, but for goodness sake do tell us what is the matter!” she said, earnestly.

“That fellow is wanted by the police,” was Ralph Moore’s prompt answer. “He is a sort of an agent for rich Celestials in the city, he goes around trying to steal young girls, and they say that in several instances he has been successful.”

Both Dollie and Marion stared at him in astonishment for a minute, then Marion’s gray eyes flashed ominously, and her lips curved in a smile.

“Well, I pity him if he ever tries to steal me,” she said, decidedly, “for I have no special liking for ‘chow-chop-suey.’”