rapidly to the streetcar and took a seat, with a
thoughtful expression on his countenance. Lafe would be convicted, and
he would get rid of the girl now shut away from the world in the gorge
building. Then, with the money that would be his, he'd find his
child,--the little boy who was his own and for whom he so longed. He
often looked at Molly and wondered how she could smile so radiantly
when she knew she had lost her child,--her own flesh and blood,--her
own little son.

Even after he left the car and was approaching the gorge, he worried
about the two in the house. It was because his mind was bent on
important plans that he did not see Jinnie swinging in the sunshine
between heaven and earth. He climbed the stairs, framing a sentence
for the girl's benefit. As he unlocked the door, the silence of the
room bore down upon him like an evil thing. He went hurriedly into the
second room, only to find it also empty. For the moment he did not
notice the shattered glass on the floor, and his heart sank within
him, but the breeze that drifted to his face brought his eyes to the
broken window. With an oath, he jumped to it and looked out. Far
below, the water tumbled as of yore over the rocks. He strained
horrified eyes for a glimpse of a human body. The girl and boy must
have dropped together into the deep abyss, preferring death to
uncertainty. They were gone--gone over the ragged rocks, where their
bodies would be lost in some of the fathomless juts a mile beyond. He
would never be bothered with Jinnie again. Then he turned from the
window. His most terrifying obstacle was out of his way. The blind
child did not concern him. He was but a feather in the wind,--the
little fellow who always shrank from him.

As if leaving a tomb, he went softly from the room and turned the key
in the lock with a sigh. Jinnie had relieved him of an awful
responsibility. At least fate had taken from his hands a detestable
task, at which he had many a time recoiled. So far all of his enemies,
with the exception of Theodore King, had one by one been taken away,
and he swung himself out of the building with a great burden lifted
from his shoulders.

As he passed, Jinnie was still drawing long breaths under the thick
bushes, Bobbie's face against her breast, and it was not until she was
sure Morse had gone that she ventured to speak.

"We're going to Lafe and Peg, Bobbie," she said. "Can you walk a long
way?"

"Yes," gurgled Bobbie, color fl