a deadly cold wind blew in and seemed to sweep past her right up the stairs, although it was a calm, warm summer night outside. Immediately she heard a cry—she ran upstairs—and her husband was dead. And she always believed, so Gertrude said, that when she opened that door she let Death in.
“It was ridiculous of me to feel so frightened. But I was distracted and worn out—and I simply felt for a moment that I dared not open the door—that death was waiting outside. Then I remembered that I had no time to waste—must not be so foolish—I sprang forward and opened the door.
“Certainly a cold wind did blow in and filled the hall with a whirl of snow. But there on the threshold stood a form of flesh and blood—Mary Vance, coated from head to foot with snow—and she brought Life, not Death, with her, though I didn’t know that then. I just stared at her.
“‘I haven’t been turned out,’ grinned Mary, as she stepped in and shut the door. ‘I came up to Carter Flagg’s two days ago and I’ve been stormed-stayed there ever since. But old Abbie Flagg got on my nerves at last, and tonight I just made up my mind to come up here. I thought I could wade this far but I can tell you it was as much as a bargain. Once I thought I was stuck for keeps. Ain’t it an awful night?’
“I came to myself and knew I must hurry upstairs. T explained as quickly as I could to Mary, and left her trying to brush the snow off. Upstairs I found that Jims was over that paroxysm, but almost as soon as I got back to the room he was in the grip of another. I hung over him and wrung my hands. I was com-
