"Hang her!" gasped Mrs. Ayres. "She never did it any more than I did.
I went to school with Lucinda Hart."

"Why should she kill a steady boarder, when the hotel has run down so
and she's been so hard up for money?" demanded Sylvia. "Hang her!
You'd better run along, sonny; the other customers will be waiting;
and you had better not talk too much till you are sure what you are
talking about."

The boy went out and closed the door, and they heard his merry
whistle as he raced out of the yard.



Chapter VII


Sylvia Whitman, walking home along the familiar village street, felt
like a stranger exploring it for the first time. She had never before
seen it under the glare of tragedy which her own consciousness threw
before her eyes. No tragedy had ever been known in East Westland
since she could remember. It had been a peaceful little community,
with every day much like the one before and after, except for the
happenings of birth and death, which are the most common happenings
of nature.

But now came death by violence, and even the wayside weeds seemed to
wave in a lurid light. Now and then Sylvia unconsciously brushed her
eyes, as if to sweep away a cobweb which obstructed her vision. When