sprang at Dorothy Fair, and took her by the shoulders, and looked
into her scared face with agonized questioning.

"Did--he confess?" she gasped out. "Did--he tell you, did he--tell
you, Dorothy Fair?"

Dorothy shook her head in a mute terror that was almost horror. It
seemed as if she would sink to the floor under Madelon's heavy hands.
Alvin Mead stood staring at them.

"Didn't he--tell you--I was the one who--stabbed Lot? Didn't he--tell
you?"

"She's at it again," muttered Alvin Mead.

Dorothy shook her head. "He wouldn't speak," she said, faintly. "He
would say nothing about it."

Madelon fairly shook her. "Couldn't you make him speak? _You!_"

"I couldn't, I couldn't, Madelon!"

"Did you tell him your heart would break if he didn't--that you
couldn't marry him if he didn't?"

"Yes--don't, don't--look at me so, Madelon."

Alvin Mead stepped forward. "Look at here--you're scarin' of that gal
to death," he interfered. "You'd better take your hands off her."