Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Capes stood beside Miss Stanley, who was beaming unnaturally, and Mr.
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