upon him--this girl, Kedsty, the mystery of it all. Why had she come to
see him? What could be the motive of her visit--unless it was to thank
him for the confession that had given Sandy McTrigger his freedom?
O'Connor was right. She was deeply concerned in McTrigger and had come
to express her gratitude. He listened. Distant footsteps sounded in the
hall. They approached quickly and paused outside his door. A hand moved
the latch, but for a moment the door did not open. He heard Cardigan's
voice, then Cardigan's footsteps retreating down the hall. His heart
thumped. He could not remember when he had been so upset over an
unimportant thing.

CHAPTER V

The latch moved slowly, and with its movement came a gentle tap on the
panel.

"Come in," he said.

The next instant he was staring. The girl had entered and closed the
door behind her. O'Connor's picture stood in flesh and blood before
him. The girl's eyes met his own. They were like glorious violets, as
O'Connor had said, but they were not the eyes he had expected to see.
They were the wide-open, curious eyes of a child. He had visualized
them as pools of slumbering flame--the idea O'Connor had given him--and
they were the opposite of that. Their one emotion seemed to be the
emotion roused by an overwhelming, questioning curiosity. They were
apparently not regarding him as a dying human being, but as a creature
immensely interesting to look upon. In place of the gratitude he had
anticipated, they were filled with a great, wondering interrogation,
and there was not the slightest hint of embarrassment in their gaze.
For a space it seemed to Kent that he saw nothing but those wonderful,
dispassionate eyes looking at him. Then he saw the rest of her--her
amazing hair, her pale, exquisite face, the slimness and beauty of her
as she stood with her back to the door, one hand still resting on the
latch. He had never seen anything quite like her. He might have guessed
that she was eighteen, or twenty, or twenty-two. Her hair, wreathed in
shimmering, velvety coils from the back to the crown of her head,
struck him as it had struck O'Connor, as unbelievable. The glory of it
gave to her an appearance of height which she did not possess, for she
was not tall, and her slimness added to the illusion.

And then, greatly to his embarrassment in the next instant, his eyes
went to her feet. Again O'Connor was right--tiny feet, high-heeled
pumps, ravishingly turned ankles sh