Soon a car, which now ran only at intervals of half an hour, came along, and I gave up my watch for the night, mortified at the result.
It was three o’clock when I reached Mr. Burton’s door. He opened it before I could ring the bell.
“No success? I was afraid of it. You see I have kept up for you; and now, since the night is so far spent, if you are not too worn-out, I wish you would come with me to a house not very far from here. I want to show you how some of the fast young men of New York spend the hours in which they ought to be in bed.”
“I am wide awake, and full of curiosity; but how did you find your little daughter?”
“Drooping a little, but persisting that she was not ill nor tired, and delighted with the flowers.”
“Then you did not forget the bouquet?”
“No, I never like to disappoint Lenore.”
Locking the door behind us, we again descended to the deserted street.
CHAPTER IX.
THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.
“Come,” said my cicerone, “we are already very late.”