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All through that long night he knelt beside the bed upon which lay the corpse of the man whom he had loved as a son. The bedroom of Maurice was on the ground floor and the windows looked out onto a little lawn, which was girdled by thick trees in which the nightingales were singing. The sorrowful songs of the birds, flitting in the moonlight and amid the cloistral dusk of the trees, seemed to Jen like a requiem over the young life which had passed away. The major was broken-hearted by the sorrow which had come upon him, and when he issued from the chamber of death he looked years older than when he entered it. It seemed to his big loving heart as though the woman he loved had died anew in the person of her son. "Yes, and a murderess!" Elinor merely shook her head gently, while Griffin stood in embarrassed silence..

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"Precisely," assented Jen, eagerly. "Therefore your mother--" Judith nodded. "We found it!" she went on, growing more excited as the end approached. "We found it, all in little bits, along with other stuff from Doris' waste basket!" Jen frowned, then laughed. "Now you're safe and sound, with no bones broken," said Griffin, as Patricia sank down on the roomy couch. "You're a nice one, you are, scaring us into a blue fit just when we were about to blister our paws with applause for the heroine of the day.".