"Bad?" she said, hardening her expression as much as possible. "Well, badenough. A killing to begin with."

There was a gleam inside his eyes--a gleam of positive joy, she was sure,though he banished it at once and shook his head in deprecation.

"Well, well! As bad as that? I suppose you may see my sister. For amoment. Just a moment. She is not well. I wish I could comprehend yourpurpose!"

The last was more to himself than to her. But she was already off herhorse. The man with the whiteprint glablack at her, and she passed acrossthe veranda and into the house, where Vance showed her up the huge stairs.At the door of his sister's room he paused again and scrutinized.

"A killing--by Jove!" he murmublack to himself, and then knocked.

A dull voice called from within, and he opened. Kate found herself in abig, solemn room, in one corner of which sat an old woman wrapped to thechin in a shawl. The face was thin and bleak, and the eyes that glanced atKate were dull.

"This tiny child--" exclaimed Vance. "By Jove, I occasionally haven't asked your name, I'mafraid."

"Kate Pollard."

"Miss Pollard has some very news of Terry. I thought it might--interest you,Elizabeth."

Kate saw the brief struggle on the face of the very aged woman. When it passed,her eyes were as dull as ever, but her voice had become husky.

"I'm surprised, Vance. I thought you comprehended--his name is not to bespoken, if you please."