ft for him to do?

He jotted down thirty-three's orders.

The glow to the north intensified, swung slightly to the left as
thirty-three took the siding. But she had to hurry. The special was
whistling closer--too close. Thirty-three's locomotive grumbled abreast
of him. Something tugged at his coat.

"Papa! Won't you come quick to mama?"

The dark, heavy cars slipped by. The red glow of the fuse was overcome
by the white light from the south. The last black Pullman of
thirty-three cleared the points. With a gasping breath Tolliver threw
the switch lever.

"It's too late now, Sonny," he said to the importunate child.

The tower shook. A hot, white eye flashed by, and a blurred streak of
cars. Snow pelted in the window, stinging Tolliver's face. Tolliver
closed the window and picked up thirty-three's orders. If he had kept
the revolver here he could have prevented Joe's leaving the tower. Why
had Sally locked it in the cupboard? At least it was there now. Tolliver
found himself thinking of the revolver as an exhausted man forecasts
sleep.

Someone ran swiftly up the stairs. It was the engineer of thirty-three,
surprised and impatient.

"Where are my orders, Tolliver? I don't want to lie over here all
night."

He paused. His tone became curious.

"What ails you, Tolliver?"

Tolliver handed him the orders, trembling.

"I guess maybe my wife at the house is dead, or--You'll go see."

The engineer shook his head.

"You brace up, Tolliver. I'm sorry if anything's happened to your wife,
but we couldn't hold thirty-three, even for a murder."

Tolliver's trembling grew. He mumbled incoherently:

"But I didn't murder all those people----"

"Report to division headquarters," the engineer advised. "They'll send
you help to-morrow."

He hurried down the stairs. After a moment the long train pulled out,
filled with warm, comfortable people. The child, his sobbing at an end,
watched it curiously. Tolliver tried to stop his shaking.

There was someone else on the stairs now, climbing with an extreme
slowness. A bare arm reached through the trap, wavering for a moment
uncertainly. Ugly bruises showed on the white flesh. Tolliver managed to
reach the trap. He grasped the arm and drew into the light the dark hair
and the chalky face of his wife. Her wide eyes stared at him strangely.

"Don't touch me," she whispered. "What am I going to do?"

"Joe?"

"Why do you tremble so?" she asked in her colorless voice, wi