“It is very bright here,” he said to Mr. Randolph, as they passed into the hall. “I think I would not let them see more of the house than could be helped. Some of them scarcely know what it is to have a roof over their heads; others are starving”—
“Ah! I see,” said Henry Randolph; “turn down the gas, John.”
In the new darkness, the lovers kissed each other again, then Louis placed the girl’s hand in Edgar Harrison’s.
“Take care of her, doctor,” he said.
Then the bolts rattled; the key turned; the heavy door swung back on its hinges just far enough to permit them to pass through; then, with a bang and jar, it closed behind them.
Outside, in the red glare and dense smoke of the torches, the mob stood waiting. Most of them knew Henry Randolph by sight, yet such was the darkness that only the sound of his voice made them certain of their prey. As for the slighter, more youthful figure that stood beside him, whose fair hair had shone for an instant in the dim gaslight from the hall, not a man there doubted that Frank Randolph had chosen to share his father’s danger; and one man felt that his hour of revenge had come. No one could ever guess, on such a night, and from such a throng, the source of a stray bullet; and he was certain of his aim. He had prepared himself for this moment; the weapon in his bosom was as familiar to his hand as the tools of his lawful trade. Fritz would be avenged, and Gretchen’s fair fame be all untouched.
“Well, men,” said Henry Randolph, “I think I heard my name called; may I ask what I can do for you?”
“Blank your impudence!” returned a rough voice; “you’ll soon find out what we want.”
“Where’s my wife?” cried a thin, shrill voice, “where is Tina Kellar, you”—
“Tina Kellar! I found my daughter shedding tears the other day at the news of her death! Do you blame me if the poor woman was overworked? What was I to do? She was too proud to take anything but work, else, I assure you, she should have had money enough and to spare; but she was well paid and well treated!”