ngeance in the event of a
miscarriage of justice.

CHAPTER 23. ALINE TURNS A CORNER

Aline might have been completely prostrated by the news of her
husband's sudden end, coming as it did as the culmination of a week of
strain and horror. That she did not succumb was due, perhaps, to
Ridgway's care for her. When Harley's massive gray head had dropped
forward to the table, his enemy's first thought had been of her. As
soon as he knew that death was sure, he hurried to the hotel.

He sent his card up, and followed it so immediately that he found her
scarcely risen from the divan on which she had been lying in the
receiving-room of her apartments. The sleep was not yet shaken from her
lids, nor was the wrinkled flush smoothed from the soft cheek that had
been next the cushion. Even in his trouble for her he found time to be
glad that Virginia was not at the moment with her. It gave him the
sense of another bond between them that this tragic hour should belong
to him and her alone--this hour of destiny when their lives swung round
a corner beyond which lay wonderful vistas of kindly sunbeat and dewy
starlight stretching to the horizon's edge of the long adventure.

She checked the rush of glad joy in her heart the sight of him always
brought, and came forward slowly. One glance at his face showed that he
had brought grave news.

"What is it? Why are you here?" she cried tensely.

"To bring you trouble, Aline."

"Trouble!" Her hand went to her heart quickly.

"It is about--Mr. Harley."

She questioned him with wide, startled eyes, words hesitating on her
trembling lips and flying unvoiced.

"Child--little partner--the orders are to be brave." He came forward
and took her hands in his, looking down at her with eyes she thought
full of infinitely kind pity.

"Is it--have they--do you mean the verdict?"

"Yes, the verdict; but not the verdict of which you are thinking."

She turned a quivering face to his. "Tell me. I shall be brave."

He told her the brutal fact as gently as he could, while he watched the
blood ebb from her face. As she swayed he caught her in his arms and
carried her to the divan. When, presently, her eyes fluttered open, it
was to look into his pitiful ones. He was kneeling beside her, and her
head was pillowed on his arm.

"Say it isn't true," she murmured.

"It is true, dear."

She moved her head restlessly, and he took away his arm, rising to draw
a chair close to the lounge. She