details! You came here and secreted
yourself at the time of the election," sternly answered the avenging
Little Sister. "You did not even sleep once in the rooms which
you professed to share with him!"

"I acted under your father's orders," boldly rejoined Ferris.

"He is dead; it is useless to say that! No one will believe you.
And you are lying to me now. You know and I know that Randall
Clayton was no thief. I know, in my heart, and all men now believe,
that he was murdered."

Ferris' teeth chattered as he faced the accusing woman. "I am
innocent of all this," he faltered.

"Then, find his murderers!" solemnly said the rebellious wife. "You
know the crime of the past which leaves its dread legacy of shame
now crushing you. If you can aid the police, do it! You may
communicate with our company's lawyers here.

"But if you interfere at the office, if you dare to approach me,
you will be apprehended under warrants for robbing the private
records of the man who was decoyed to his death among you. One
word against my father's memory, one single hint of our marriage,
and the jail doors will close on you."

"And, the future?" whispered Ferris. "Our lives are bound together."

"The law in one year will give me a separation for desertion,"
said Alice. "The divorce will be quietly obtained in the West; if
you resist, you know the penalty! There is a gulf between us for
Time and Eternity.

"My father's murdered confidence, your Judas plots to gain a motherless
girl's hand, your wrecking Clayton's life! You can purchase your
safety in but one way: by obedience."

The astounded husband raised his hand as she glided by him. He
followed her dumbly into the front drawing-room, where the three
lawyers waited for the end of the colloquy.

"It is understood, gentlemen," said Alice Worthington, "that Mr.
Ferris has intruded upon me for the last time. I leave it to you to
demand and enforce the absolute protection of my privacy. Nothing
can induce me to consent to another interview, or to answer any
further communications."

There reigned a dismal silence in the room as Alice Worthington
glided out into the great hall. Standing on the lowest stair, she
turned, a desolate and pathetic figure, with the golden hair rippling
over the marble brows.

She steadied herself with one arm, and a slight cry of affright
trembled upon her parted lips as Ferris sprang forward, crying "For
God's sake, hear me! Just one word!"

But