from weakness. Her voice was lifeless.

"Are you?" she said. "I did not know. Nobody has been near me
the whole time I have been in the Tombs." There was infinite
pathos in the tones as she repeated the words so fraught with
dreadfulness. "Nobody has been near me!"

The secretary felt a sudden glow of shame. She realized the
justice of that unconscious accusation, for, till to-day, she had
had no thought of the suffering girl there in the prison. To
assuage remorse, she sought to give evidence as to a prevalent
sympathy.

"Why," she exclaimed, "there was Helen Morris to-day! She has
been asking about you again and again. She's all broken up over
your trouble."

But the effort on the secretary's part was wholly without
success.

"Who is Helen Morris?" the lifeless voice demanded. There was no
interest in the question.

Sarah experienced a momentary astonishment, for she was still
remembering the feverish excitement displayed by the salesgirl,
who had declared herself to be a most intimate friend of the
convict. But the mystery was to remain unsolved, since Gilder
now entered the office. He walked with the quick, bustling
activity that was ordinarily expressed in his every movement. He
paused for an instant, as he beheld the two visitors in the