reet which separated
its broad end from Joyce's confines, and gazed up at the light.

His devotion ought to have been rewarded--perhaps it was.

Presently the glow fell off into a glimmer, but, as he was turning away,
another sprang into brightness below. This he knew to be the library,
and it gave him an idea which he was quick to act upon. He took a
sprinter's pace for home, and, as soon as he arrived there, made
straight for the telephone, where he called up Miss Lavillotte. In a
moment her gentle "Hello!" came softly to his ears, and his face took on
the look of a satisfied idiot, or possibly an inspired poet seeking for
a rhyme; the eyes upturned and the mouth open.

"Do you know who is talking?" he asked.

"Yes; Mr. Dalton."

"You are right!" as if she had mastered an intricate problem. "And I
would not have disturbed you, but I have great news for you."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. Murfree died an hour or two ago, and has left papers that tell the
whole story, and exonerate Lozcoski."

"How glad I am!"

"I knew you would be. There are other things, too. When can I see you?"

"Let me see. I have news, too. Lucy has broken down at last, and begged
me, all tears and softness, to take her to see poor Nate. We are going
in the morning at 8.15. But that would be too early for you?"

"Not at all. And you and Lucy can't go alone to the jail. If you will
allow me----"

"How if I command you?" merrily.

"Then I can do nothing but obey."

"Well, then, I do. We'll take the same train, won't we--that 8.15?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good-night, then."

"Good-night--till morning."

He distinguished a funny little sound, like a suppressed giggle, and in
a clear, final tone came a last "Good-night, my friend!"

Then he heard her receiver click in its socket, and the decided tinkle
of the bell shut him off. But he did not care. He was still her
"friend." He would be with her all to-morrow. His interests and hers
were identical, and nobody should interfere without a struggle on his
part.

Not that he meant anything overt, or aggressive. Only he would make
himself so necessary she could not do without him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

VISITING THE SHUT-INS.

Poor Nate fretted in confinement, but not for his own sake. He simply
ignored his surroundings, not deigning to complain, or scarcely to
notice; but sought every opportunity to ask eagerly after the welfare of
Lucy and her little family. He overwhelmed Mr. Barringto