I FACE FATE
slowly, "but perhaps I shall understand it all better when I hear what you have to say to the others."
"Yes," I replied soberly. "I think you will understand then."
She turned about, glancing slightly back toward me across her shoulder.
"You may come," she acknowledged, "for I am sure of one thing—I am not at all afraid of you."
My mind was full of a strange conflict as I followed her slender figure down the circular staircase to the lower hall. No doubt I was in for a stormy time, nor could I hope to clear myself entirely of suspicion. Circumstances pointed directly at me as the murderer of that man above, and I realized how exceedingly weak was my defence. Yet this voluntary surrender would surely have weight, even upon those prejudiced minds, and I had faith—strong, abiding faith—that Jean Denslow would believe the truth of my statement. Somehow, just then, to retain the confidence of this girl meant infinitely more to me than all the rest. How quietly she accepted my plan, and undertook the carrying out of her part in it, never once glancing back to learn if I was really following. Yet there must have been a bit of the dramatic in her composition, for no stage picture could have been more deftly arranged than the simple form in which she managed our entrance. Stepping softly within the library, and drawing slightly to one side, so as to reveal me standing erect in the doorway, she announced clearly:
"Lieutenant King."
I caught it all in one swift glance—the book-lined
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