s now only
a question of minutes. The terrible nightmare was over, a thing of the
past. No more would she be terrified by the sight of padded cells or
haunted by Dr. Zacharie's cruel, diabolical smile. And as she clung more
tightly to Tod's arm she thought with gratitude in her heart how true
and devoted a friend he had been through all these dark days. But for
him, her uncle and Mr. Cooley might have succeeded in their design, they
might have kept her confined in the asylum for years. The outside world
would never have known or cared. She might have died there and no one
been the wiser. She felt sorry for Mrs. Marsh, for she believed in the
sincerity of the woman's repentance. Besides, she was ready to forgive
her anything. Was she not the mother of the one being she loved better
than anyone in the world?

Turning to Mrs. Marsh, she said with a sympathetic smile:

"It's fortunate for me--but is hard for you, isn't it?"

"Oh, never mind me," murmured Mrs. Marsh, averting her face. "You did
not deserve to suffer. I do."

"Dr. McMutrie has been very kind," went on Paula; "he seemed to realize
instinctively that Dr. Zacharie was against me. That fact alone enlisted
his sympathy."

"Yes, my dear," said Mrs. Marsh, who had somewhat recovered from her
agitation, "Dr. McMutrie is an exceptionally nice man. One doesn't often
meet such men nowadays." With a mischievous glance at Tod, she added:
"He's almost as nice as my son, don't you think so, Paula?"

Understanding her meaning, the girl blushed, and the alert Tod, quick to
seize the psychological moment, thought this as good a time as any to
put to words what his eyes had already told her eloquently enough:

"Paula," he whispered, "I----"

"Hush!" said Mr. Ricaby warningly. "Here's Mr. Cooley!"

Bascom Cooley, head erect and defiant as ever, came slowly down the
stairs and glared savagely at each individual member of the group
gathered in the office waiting for him. He knew that he was checkmated,
that his reign of terror was ended, that the Marsh millions had slipped
out of his grasp, but still he would not acknowledge defeat. They
thought they had trapped him, did they? Well, he would show them that
the old fox was too cunning for them. He stood in silence, waiting for
someone to speak. Finally, Mr. Ricaby stepped forward. His face was
pale, but his voice firm as he said:

"Bascom Cooley, I suppose Mr. Marsh has already told you that we know.
There is no use min