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Patricia felt sorry for Elinor and Bruce that they should be marooned among the elder and more serious members of the party, but, as David pointed out to her in an answering whisper, they seemed uncommonly satisfied where they were and not at all in need of sympathy.,

After this enigmatical remark he hurriedly left the room, for the purpose, without doubt, of escaping further questioning. His demeanor completely puzzled Jen, who could not make out the meaning of his conversation. Evidently David knew something which he was unwilling to reveal--something which might lead to the solution of the profound mystery which enwrapped the death of Maurice and the extraordinary disappearance of his body.,

"Don't mind the kid, Miss Pat dear," he said, with his most winning smile. "She doesn't know any better yet. Your religion is the sort we've got to grow into, and, even then, some of us aren't ever quite big enough to realize it.",

"Listen, then, and I shall explain," resumed the major, with growing excitement. "I firmly believe that Etwald stole the devil-stick, and with it killed Maurice."

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"Yet you risked death for the same woman.",

Her eyes sought the pale pure outline of Elinor's profile, caught between the intervening faces, and held it during the brief explanatory speech, wherein Mr. Benton paid his tribute to Elinor's generous silence, and apologized in the name of the Board for the unjust accusation. She saw the wave of color sweep over it at the commendatory words, and the dark eyes fall under the shame of the hinted treachery of the unnamed student whose face was in every one's mind. Then at the next words she saw the light flash into full radiance, as Mr. Benton, with something in his extended hand, turned full toward Elinor where she sat.,

"Want you, Molly?" he almost sobbed, and I felt his heart pounding hard next to my shoulder.,

He was half-clothed, pale as the white dress of Isabella Dallas, and evidently, from the wild look in his eyes and the quivering of his nether lip, badly scared. Stopping short a few paces from the door, he held up the lamp which he carried, to survey the astonishing scene before him. The sight of Jen tongue-tied and immovable, of Isabella weeping on her knees by the bedside, of the bed itself vacant of its dead occupant--all these things were calculated to shock even stronger nerves than those of David Sarby. Nevertheless, after a pause of sheer astonishment, he managed to stammer out a question: