"At No. 90 West Forty-Fifth Street. I haven't much time to spare. I must go as soon as I can get ready."
It was half-past seven o'clock before Mark rang the bell at a fine brown stone house on West Forty-Fifth Street. The door was opened by a colored servant, who, without speaking to Mark, turned his head, and called out: "The messenger's come, Miss Maud."
"I'm so glad," said a silvery voice, as a young lady of twenty, already dressed for the street, came out of a room on the left of the hall. Mark took off his hat politely.
"So you are the messenger boy?" she said. "You are to take me to Daly's Theater."
"Yes, miss. So I heard."
"Let us go at once. We will take the horse cars at Sixth Avenue, and get out at Thirtieth Street."
Before she had finished they were already in the street.
"I must explain," she said, "that my uncle bought two tickets this morning and expected to accompany me, but an important engagement has prevented. I was resolved to go, and so I sent for a messenger. Perhaps you had better take the tickets."
"All right, Miss——."
"Gilbert. As you are to be my escort I will ask your name."