the discovery of the body.

I found the announcement--but in small type. The murder was ascribed
to a gang battle--the man could not be identified, and apparently both
police and public considered the affair merely one of those daily
slayings that occur in that city.

Another newspaper devoted about the same amount of space to the
account, but it published a photograph of the dead man, taken in the
alley, where, it appeared, the reporter had viewed the body before it
had been removed. The photograph looked horribly lifelike. I cut it
out and placed it in my pocketbook.

For the present I felt safe. I believed the affair would be forgotten
soon. And meanwhile here was Jacqueline.

I turned toward her. She was asleep at my side, and her head drooped
on my shoulder. We sat thus all the afternoon, while the city
disappeared behind us, and we passed through Connecticut and approached
the Vermont hills.

Then we had a gay little supper in the dining car. Afterward I walked
to the car entrance and flung the broken dog collar away--across the
fields. That was the last link that bound us to the past.

Then the berths were lowered and made up; and fastening from my upper
place the curtain which fell before Jacqueline's, I knew that, for one
night more, at least, I held her in safe ward.