s
breast bared in the struggle, the blood oozing a widening scarlet blot
on his white shirt. His head had fallen backward over the edge and could
not be seen.

Without moving a muscle, her body crouching, Nance spoke:

"You wuz awake--you heered?"

"Yes!"

The gleaming eyes burned through the gray dawn, two points of
scintillating, hellish light fixed in purpose on the intruder.

She had only meant to take the money. The fool had fought. She killed
him because she had to. And now the sobbing, sniveling little idiot who
had kept her waiting all night had stuck her nose into some thing that
didn't concern her. If she opened her mouth, the gallows would be the
end.

She would open it too. Of course she would. She was his wife. They had
quarreled, but the simpleton would blab. Nance knew this with unerring
instinct. It was no use to offer her half the money. She didn't have
sense enough to take it. She knew those pious, baby faces--well, there
was room for two in the cave under the cliff. It was daylight now. No
matter; it was Christmas morning. No man or woman ever darkened her door
on Christmas day. She could hide their bodies until dark, and then it
was easy. She would be in New York herself before anyone could suspect
the meaning of that automobile in the shed or the owners would trouble
themselves to come after it.

Again her decision was quick and fierce. Her hand was on the bag. She
would hold it against the world, all hell and heaven.

With the leap of a tigress she was on the girl, the bag gripped in her
left hand, the knife in her right.

To her amazement the trembling figure stood stock still gazing at her
with a strange look of pity.

"Well!" Nance growled. "I ain't goin' ter be took now I've got this
money--I'm goin' to New York ter find my boy!"

She lifted the knife and stopped in sheer stupor of surprise at the
girl's immovable body and staring eyes. Had she gone crazy? What on
earth could it mean? No girl of her youth and beauty could look death
in the face without a tremor. No woman in her right senses could see
the body of her dead husband lying there red and yet quivering without a
sign. It was more than even Nance's nerves could endure.

She lowered the knife and peered into the girl's set face and glanced
quickly about the room. Could she have called help? Was the house
surrounded? It was impossible. She couldn't have escaped. What did it
mean?

The old woman drew back with a terror s