CHAPTER XXIX

BAD NEWS

Colin Whitford came into the room carrying a morning paper. His step
was hurried, his eyes eager. When he spoke there was the lift of
excitement in his voice.

"Bee, I've got bad news."

"Is the Bird Cage flooded?" asked Beatrice. "Or have the miners called
a strike again?"

"Worse than that. Lindsay's been arrested. For murder."

The bottom fell out of her heart. She caught at the corner of a desk
to steady herself. "Murder! It can't be! Must be some one of the
same name."

"I reckon not, honey. It's Clay sure enough. Listen." He read the
headlines of a front-page story.

"It can't be Clay! What would he be doing in a gambling-dive?" She
reached for the paper, but when she had it the lines blurred before her
eyes. "Read it, please."

Whitford read the story to the last line. Long before he had finished,
his daughter knew the one arrested was Clay. She sat down heavily, all
the life stricken from her young body.