told myself that. But all the
time--I knew--I knew you'd come."

A cry--a woman's cry--sounded from just outside the door of number
seven. Into the room came Myra Thornhill; quickly she crossed and took
Kendrick's hands in hers.

"David," she sobbed. "Oh, David--is it a dream--a wonderful dream?"

Kendrick looked into her eyes, sheepishly at first, then gladly as he
saw what was in them. For the light there, under the tears, was such as
no man could mistake. Magee saw it. Hayden saw it too, and his voice was
even more lifeless when he spoke.

"Forgive me, David," he said. "I didn't mean--"

And then, as he saw that Kendrick did not listen, he turned and walked
quietly into the bedroom of number seven, taking no notice of Cargan and
Bland, who, with the other winter guests of Baldpate, now crowded the
doorway leading to the hall. Hayden closed the bedroom door. Mr. Magee
and the others stood silent, wondering. Their answer came quickly--the
sharp cry of a revolver behind that closed door.

It was Mr. Magee who went into the bedroom. The moonlight streamed in
through the low windows, and fell brightly on the bed. Across this
Hayden lay. Mr. Magee made sure. It was not a pleasant thing to make
sure of. Then he took the revolver from the hand that still clasped it,
covered the quiet figure on the bed, and stepped back into the outer
room.

"He--he has killed himself," he said in a low voice, closing the bedroom
door behind him.

There was a moment's frightened hush; then the voice of Kendrick rang
out:

"Killed himself? I don't understand. Why should he do that? Surely not
because--no--" He looked questioningly into the white face of the girl
at his side; she only shook her head. "Killed himself," he repeated,
like a man wakened from sleep. "I don't understand."

On tiptoe the amateur hermits of Baldpate descended to the hotel office.
Mr. Magee saw the eyes of the girl of the station upon him, wide with
doubt and alarm. While the others gathered in little groups and talked,
he took her to one side.

"When does the next train leave for Reuton?" he asked her.

"In two hours--at ten-thirty," she replied.

"You must be on it," he told her. "With you will go the
two-hundred-thousand-dollar package. I have it in my pocket now."

She took the news stolidly, and made no reply.

"Are you afraid?" asked Magee gently. "You mustn't be. No harm can touch
you. I shall stay here and see that no one follows."

"I'm not