you and
Steve, remember you've got me to turn to." The time had come when she
must turn to someone.

She would never go to him; she vowed it. She would not accept his help
if he came to her. But, if he was sincere, if he meant what he said,
why did he not come again to proffer it? Because he was not sincere,
of course. That had been proven long before. She despised him. But
his face, as she last saw it, refused to be banished from her mind.
It looked so strong, and yet gentle and loving, like the face of a
protector, one to be trusted through good times and bad. Oh, this
wicked, wicked world, and the shams and sorrows in it! "Malcolm, why
don't you come to me?"

Stephen uttered an exclamation. Looking up, she saw him hurrying toward
the hall.

"Someone's at the door," he explained. "It's Sylvester, of course. I'll
let him in."

It was not the lawyer but a messenger boy with a note. Stephen returned
to the library with the missive in his hand.

"He couldn't get here, Caro," he said, excitedly. "Wants us to come
right down to his office. Hurry up! Get your things on. The cab's
waiting. Come! Rush! It may be important."

The cab, an electric vehicle, made good time, and they soon reached the
Pine Street offices, where they were ushered at once into the senior
partner's presence.

"Step into the other room," said Mr. Sylvester, "and wait there, please.
I'll join you shortly."

The room was the large one where the momentous conference between
Captain Elisha and the three lawyers had so recently taken place.
Caroline seated herself in one of the chairs. Stephen walked the floor.

"Hope he doesn't keep us waiting long," he fumed. "I thought of course
he was ready or he wouldn't have sent for us."

"Ready?" his sister looked at him, questioningly. "Ready for what?" she
repeated, with sudden suspicion. "Steve, do you know what Mr. Sylvester
wishes to see us about?"

Her brother colored and seemed a bit disconcerted. "How should I know?"
he muttered.

"Is it something new about the estate or that man who owns it? You do
know something! I can see it in your face. What is it?"

"Nothing. How should I know what it is?"

"But you do. I believe you do. Look at me! What does Mr. Sylvester want
of us?"

The boy hesitated; then whirled and faced her. "See here, Caro," he
said, "maybe I do know something--or I can guess. Now, whatever happens,
you've got to be a sensible girl. Certain things have to be dealt
with in