a Sessions drew back with
a scream.

"It's a lie!" she cried. "There isn't a word of truth in what you say,
John Consadine. Oh, you're the plague of my life--you have been from the
first! You follow me about and torment me. Shade Buckheath had nothing
to do with Gray Stoddard's disappearance, I tell you. Nothing--nothing
--nothing!"

She thrust forward her face and sent forth the words with incredible
vehemence. But her tirade kindled in Johnnie no heat of personal anger.
She stood looking intently at the frantic woman before her. Slowly a
light of comprehension dawned in her eyes.

"Shade Buckheath had everything to do with Gray Stoddard's
disappearance. You know it--that's what ails you now. You--you must have
been there when they quarrelled!"

"They didn't quarrel--they didn't!" protested Miss Lydia, with a yet
more hysteric emphasis. "They didn't even speak to each other. Mr.
Stoddard said 'Good morning' to me, and rode right past."

Johnnie leant forward and, with a sudden sweeping movement, caught the
other woman by the wrist, looking deep into her eyes.

"Lydia," she said accusingly, and neither of them noticed the freedom of
the address, "you didn't tell the truth when you said you hadn't seen
Gray since Friday night. You saw him Friday morning--_you_--_and_--
_Shade_--_Buckheath_! You have both lied about it--God knows why. Now,
Shade and my stepfather have taken poor Gray's car and gone up into the
mountains. _What do you think they went for?_"

The blazing young eyes were on Miss Sessions's tortured countenance.

"Oh, don't let those men get at Gray. They'll murder him!" sobbed the
older woman, sinking once more to her knees. "Johnnie--I've always been
good to you, haven't I? You go and tell them that--say that Shade
Buckheath--that somebody ought to--"

She broke off abruptly, and sprang up like a suddenly goaded creature.

"No, I won't!" she cried out. "You needn't ask it of me. I will not tell
about seeing Mr. Stoddard Friday morning. I promised not to, and it
can't do any good, anyhow. If you set them at me, I'll deny it and tell
them you made up the story. I will--I will--I will!"

And she ran into her room once more, and threw herself down beside the
bed. Johnnie turned contemptuously and left the woman babbling
incoherencies on her knees, evidently preparing to pray to a God whose
laws she was determined to break.

CHAPTER XXII

THE ATLAS VERTEBRA

Johnnie hurried downstairs, in a