Suddenly she started up. This was
the thirtieth, and—a week, the letter
bad said! And she did not know how
tar the answer was to go. Precious
time had already been wasted. It
was ages since she read those awful
words. She must do something, tell
some one, get help. Alvin! He was
the one. She put the letter in his
hand. "Read it, quick!" she com
manded.
He complied, starting at the first
words, then reading on quietly, through
the postscript directions, and ending
with a careful scrutiny of the en
velope. Stella watched him anxiously,
wondering, even in her preoccupation,
at the maturity and wisdom that came
into his face at emergency's call. "Oh,
Alvin, there must be some way be
side—beside obeying. How can I do
that? Yet how can 1 be Alfred's—,
inur—murderer?" She shuddered at
hn I
I ,»•'
the word..
