Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-01-05
CHAPTER XVI.
THE T1GREss IN HER DEN.

l Presently hanson cab came rattling down the street and pulled up at the door, "Now for it," said MT. Quest to himself, as he metaphorically shook himself together. Next minute he heard 0 voice, which he knew only too well-a loud high voice-say | from the cab, "WeH, open the door, stupid, can't youp'
 Certainly, my lady fair," replied another volce-a coarse, somewhat husky male voice '-"adored Edith, ill one moment" Come, stow that rot, and let me out,n re- piled the adored Edith, sharply; and, in an- other moment, o large man in evening l clothes, a horrible, vulgar, carnal looking man, with red cheeks and hanging under lip, emerged into the lamp light and turned to hand the lady out As he did so the woman Ellen advanced from the doorway, and, going to the cab door, whispered some thing to its occupant.
 'Halloo Johnnie," said that lady, as she descended from the cab, so loudly that Mir. Quest on the balcony could hear every word, "you must be off; Mir. d'Aubigne has turned up, and perhaps he won't think three good company, so you had just best take this cab back again, my son, and that will save me the trouble of paying it. Come, cutn "DAubigne," growled the flashy man, with an oath; ''what do I care about D'Aubignea Advance, D'Aubigne, and all's well. You needn't be jealous of me, I'm a married man. I am'-
 "Now stop that noise and be off, He's a lawyer and he might not freeze on to you Don't you understand2'
 Well, I'm lawyer, too, and pretty sharp one-arcades ambo," said Johnnie with coarse laugh; land tell you what it is, Edith, it ain't good enough to cart fellow down into this bowling wilderness and then send him away without even drink; lend us another flyer, at any rate. It ain't good enough, I say"
 "Good enough or not, you'll have to go, and you don't get any flyers out of me to- night. Now, pack sharp, or I'll know the reason why" and she pointed toward the cab i'll fashion that seemed to COW her compan- ion, for without another word he turned and got into it.
 "Where to, sirl" asked the cabman.
 "Oh, to he'll or the Haymarket, It's all one" he growled, finging himself back into the corner. In another moment the cab had turned, and he was gone, muttering curses as be went.
 The woman, who was none other than Mrs. d'Aubigne, alias Edith Jones, alias the Tiger, turned and entered the house, accompanied by her servant, Ellen, and presently Mir. Quest heard the rustic of her satin dress upon the stairs. He stepped back into the dark ness of the balcony and waited. She opened the door, entered and closed 1t behind her, and then, a little dazzled by the light, stood for some seconds looking about her for her visitor She was a thin, tall woman, who might have been any age between forty and fifty, with the wreck of a very fine agile looking figure. Her face, which was plenti- fully bedaubed with paint and powder, was sharp, fierce and handsome, and crowned with mane of false yellow hair. Her eyes were cold and blue, her lips thin and rather drawn, so as to show double line of large and gleaming teeth. She was dressed in rich and hideous tight fitting gown of yellow satin, barred with black, and on her arms were long bright yellow gloves. She moved lightly and silently, and looked round her with 8 long searching gaze like that of a cat, and her general appearance conveyed an idea d hunger and wicked ferocity. Such was the outward appearance of the Tiger, and of a truth it justified her name. "Why, where the dickens has he got to7' she said aloud;' q wonder if he has given ne the slip4"
 'Here I am, Edith," said Mir. Quest, quietly, as he stepped from the balcony into the room.
 "Oh. there you are, are youa' she said, "hiding away in the dark-just like your
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