with an expression of startled intelligence in her eyes. Apparently
her attention had been attracted by the crude drawing of a skull and
cross-bones at the close of the letter lying open in her lap.

"I beg your pardon, Marion," said Helen with an evident effort at
self-control. "I didn't mean to intrude. I hope you'll forgive me for
something quite unintentional."

"Certainly, Helen," Marion replied generously, "and since a chance
look has informed you of the nature of these letters and I want to
talk this affair over with somebody, I think I may as well talk it
over with you. Let's go down to the other end of the car where we
aren't likely to be disturbed."

Accordingly they moved up to the front of the car where they took
possession of two chairs and soon were so deeply absorbed in the
problem at hand as to excite the wonder and curiosity of the other
Camp Fire Girls.

Marion handed the two anonymous letters to her friend without
introductory remark, and the latter read them. As Marion watched the
expression on the reader's face, she was forced to admit to herself
that right then, under those seemingly impersonal circumstances,
Helen's habitual strangeness of manner was more pronounced than she
had ever before known it to be. This girl of impenetrable secrecy read
the letters, seemingly with an abstraction amounting almost to
inattention, while physically she appeared to shrink from something
that to her alone was visible and real.

As she finished reading, Helen looked up at her friend and the gaze of