"Oh, Grif! Grif! my heart is broken!"
"What is it, Ally? Are you ill?"
"Listen to me, Grif," said Alice, rapidly, and in a voice of strong emotion. "The crisis of my life has come. You said once that you would help me if you could--"
"And so I will!" cried the boy. "With my life! So help me G--!"
"This is a letter from Jim Pizey, that poor girl's associate. In it he details his devilish schemes. He discloses how he and his vile associates are going to rob Highlay Station--"
"Go on, Ally, go on," said Grif, eagerly, as Alice paused to recover her breath.
"That is my father's Station, Grif. My father is displeased with me, and that is the reason I am poor. He is rich--he always keeps large sums of money in the house; and these men are going to rob him--perhaps murder him."
"Jim Pizey don't stick at nothin'," put in Grif, rapidly. "I've heerd him talk of Highlay, but I didn't know it was your father's. Let's go and tell the peelers."
"I cannot! I dare not!" cried Alice. "For, oh, Grif! Grif! they have entrapped my husband, who knows where my father keeps his gold. They have entrapped him in the gang, and they, with my husband in their company, are on the road to rob and murder my father. If I tell the police, my husband is lost--lost!"
"What can we do?"