owered the gun.

If I ever before had occasion to glory in Sally I had it then. She
betrayed not the slightest fear. She looked as if she could fight like a
little tigress. She was white, composed, defiant.

"How long has Russ been in here?" demanded Sampson.

"All evening. I left Diane at eight o'clock. Russ came right after
that."

"But you'd undressed for bed!" ejaculated the angry and perplexed uncle.

"Yes." That simple answer was so noncommittal, so above subterfuge, so
innocent, and yet so confounding in its provocation of thought that
Sampson just stared his astonishment. But I started as if I had been
struck.

"See here Sampson--" I began, passionately.

Like a flash Sally whirled into my arms and one hand crossed my lips.
"It's my fault. I will take the blame," she cried, and now the agony of
fear in her voice quieted me. I realized I would be wise to be silent.
"Uncle," began Sally, turning her head, yet still clinging to me, "I've
tormented Russ into loving me. I've flirted with him--teased
him--tempted him. We love each other now. We're engaged. Please--please
don't--" She began to falter and I felt her weight sag a little against
me.

"Well, let go of him," said Sampson. "I won't hurt him. Sally, how long
has this affair been going on?"

"For weeks--I don't know how long."

"Does Diane know?"

"She knows we love each other, but not that we met--did this--" Light
swift steps, the rustle of silk interrupted Sampson, and made my heart
sink like lead.

"Is that you, George?" came Miss Sampson's deep voice, nervous, hurried.
"What's all this commotion? I hear--"

"Diane, go on back," ordered Sampson.

Just then Miss Sampson's beautiful agitated face appeared beside Wright.
He failed to prevent her from seeing all of us.

"Papa! Sally!" she exclaimed, in consternation. Then she swept into the
room. "What has happened?"

Sampson, like the devil he was, laughed when it was too late. He had
good impulses, but they never interfered with his sardonic humor. He
paced the little room, shrugging his shoulders, offering no explanation.
Sally appeared about ready to collapse and I could not have told Sally's
lie to Miss Sampson to save my life.

"Diane, your father and I broke in on a little Romeo and Juliet scene,"
said George Wright with a leer. Then Miss Sampson's dark gaze swept from
George to her father, then to Sally's attire and her shamed face, and
finally to me. What effect the magnificent