t?" The voice was hoarse and
authoritative, but the gruff tones were schooled, it seemed, to an
almost unnatural softness.

"'S all right, Micky," answered the Spider in the same subdued tone,
"it's only me come for d' Kid."

"Who you got wid you there, Spider?"

"A pal o' mine an' d' Kid's--he's all right, Mick!" Then to Ravenslee:
"Come on, bo!" Slowly they approached the shack, but, reaching the door,
the Spider hesitated a long moment ere, lifting the latch, he led the
way in.

A fairly large room was lighted by a lamp that stood upon a rickety
table before which sat a young-faced, white-haired man, very
industriously writing in a small account book; upon the table before
him were a number of articles very neatly arranged, among which
Ravenslee noticed a cheap wrist-watch, a hair-comb, a brooch, and a
small chain purse. He was yet gazing at these and at the white-haired
man, who, having nodded once to the Spider, continued to write so
busily, when he was startled to hear a long-drawn, shuddering sigh.
Turning suddenly sharp about, he stared toward a dark corner where,
among a litter of oars, misshapen bundles, boxes, and odds and ends, was
a small stove, and, crouched above it, his head between his hands, he
beheld Spike.

With the same instinctive feeling that he must be silent, Ravenslee
approached the boy and touched him on the shoulder. Spike started and
glanced up, though without lifting his head.

"Your sister is anxious about you. Why are you here?"

"Don't you know, Geoff? Ain't no one told ye?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'll show ye!"

The boy took a hurricane lamp from the floor beside him, and, having
lighted it, brought Ravenslee further into that littered corner where,
among the boxes and bundles and other oddments, lay what seemed to be
two or three oars covered with a worn tarpaulin.

"Look, Geoff--you remember--only this morning!" Very gently he raised a
corner of the tarpaulin and as he looked down, Ravenslee's breath caught
suddenly.

A woman's face, very young and very placid-seeming! The long, dark hair
framing the waxen features still oozed drops of water like great,
slow-falling tears; and beholding this pale, still face, Ravenslee knew
why he had shivered and hushed voice and step, and instinctively he
bowed his uncovered head.

"You remember Maggie Finlay, Geoff, this morning, on the stairs?
She--she kissed me good-by, said she was goin' away; this is what she
meant--the river