key or buy you a return ticket to that
fly-in-the-face-of-Providence state of yours if you tampered with the
bodies of these people. That uncle of yours juggled considerable in
his day, but souls are one thing; bodies, another."

Marcia Lowe now clasped her hands behind her tired head and raised her
eyes to the low ceiling.

"Just for one faithful soul!" she murmured; "no, one faithful body that
would trust itself to me for--a month; a month! A few days of
starvation; a magic little pill; a spell of patient waiting and then--a
miracle."

But no response came from the stillness of the night and Miss Lowe was
about to make preparations for bed when a sound outside stayed her.
Then came a knock on the door! She went to the small window beside the
door, drew aside the dainty white curtain, opened it halfway and asked:

"Is that you, Hope?" She had promised Liza to bide with her when her
hour came, but it was not Hope who replied:

"This is Martin Morley, ma'am. Me and lil' Molly."

The door was opened at once and closed after the two.

"Now," said the little doctor, stirring the fire to greater effort and
seeing that her callers had the easiest chairs in the room, "now, then,
Mr. Morley."

Molly followed every motion of Marcia Lowe with unchildlike interest.
Fear was gone from the girl's face, but an alert sharpness marked it.

"Can you give her," Martin nodded toward Molly, "a bed for--for
to-night? I have something to tell you."

Marcia Lowe sensed that something serious lay behind the request, and
rose at once and went to Molly.

"Come into my bedroom," she said; "I can make you very comfy, I'm sure.
Will you sleep with me?"

Molly nodded and followed meekly. After a time Marcia Lowe came back
and, standing in front of Morley, said quickly:

"What is it?"

The haggard, haunted face was raised to her.

"I've--I've done killed Mary!" he said simply.

The little doctor shuddered, but controlled her features; her eyes did
not fall from the wretched man's face.

"Tell me!" was all she said. Then Martin slowly in a hushed voice,
described all that had passed, even the vision of Sandy.

"The Lord-a'mighty, He knows I didn't mean to kill," Martin quivered;
"but who-all will believe that? I meant to stay clean and fair for the
boy's coming back, Miss Lowe, ma'am, deed I did, and now he'll come
back to----" Martin could not frame the hideous truth in words; he
gulped miserably and went on; "please