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"Go ahead, if you can do it," said a masculine voice at her elbow. "The Academy won't object, I'm sure." "Assuredly. You loved Maurice--" Elinor smiled and her shining eyes traveled down the wide dim corridor with its rows of battered gray lockers, past the confusion of chairs and easels that clustered around the big screen of the composition room, straight into the farthest nook of the great bare work rooms beyond, where an array of heroic-sized white casts loomed conspicuous in the cold north light above the clutter of easels, stools and drawing-boards that encompassed the silent, intent workers..

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"Yes, Mr. Haydon, sir," he said clearly. "We do not complain. Our trade keeps up, sir. We are the same as when you left, sir. We do not complain." "Last night?" "And I," cried the girl, "swear to remain true to Maurice." It was a melancholy procession which bore the body up to the house. Four men carried the bier--for it was nothing else since it bore the dead body of a young man--and behind came Major Jen bowed to the ground with sorrow. He could hardly believe that Maurice was dead--that he had perished upon a lonely country road by an unknown hand. But that was the question! Jen began to think the assassin was not unknown; that he had a clew to find the guilty one; and he waited the coming of Dr. Etwald with great impatience to see what his opinion was regarding the course to be pursued..