It so happened, in this case, that events, to use a railroad phrase, made connection.
No sooner had Miss Eunice told her story than the man came again. This time he was accompanied by a woman.
"Only get my glove away from him," sobbed the unhappy one, "that is all I ask!" This was a fine admission! It was thought proper to bring an officer, and so a strong one was sent for.
Meanwhile the couple had been admitted to the parlor. Miss Eunice's father stationed the officer at one door, while he, with a pistol, stood at the other. Then Miss Eunice went into the apartment. She was wasted, weak, and nervous. The two villains got up as she came in, and bowed. She began to tremble as usual, and laid hold upon the mantelpiece. "How much do you want?" she gasped.
The man gave the woman a push with his forefinger. She stepped forward quickly with her crest up. Her eyes turned, and she fixed a vixenish look upon Miss Eunice. She suddenly shot her hand out from beneath her shawl and extended it at full length. Across it lay Miss Eunice's glove, very much soiled.
"Was that thing ever yours?" demanded the woman, shrilly.
"Y-yes," said Miss Eunice, faintly.
The woman seemed (if the apt word is to be excused) staggered. She withdrew her hand, and looked the glove over. The man shook his head, and began to laugh behind his hat.
"And did you ever give it to him?" pursued the woman, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb.
Miss Eunice nodded.