"These are the young ladies," said Mr. French, introducing them. "This
one was shut in the room with the fire."

Tavia felt her face flush, and her nerves throb painfully. It was so
embarassing to be the object of such scrutiny.

Then began a fire of questions, Mr. French in every instance indicating
how Tavia should answer. The railroad lawyer, Mr. Banks, trying of
course, to trip Tavia into admitting that the lamp exploded first, and
the bottle blew up after. But Tavia was positive in declaring that the
blaze came from the far corner of the room, whereas the stove was
directly at her side. This was also indicated by a map which Mr. French
produced, and upon which Tavia marked the various spots where the bench
stood, where the marble slab with the stove was situated, and where the
bottle appeared to come from--a far corner of the slab.

"Will you let down your hair, please," said Mr. French, and Dorothy
promptly drew the pins from Tavia's tresses, allowing the unscorched
braid to fall below her waist, while the burnt ends were charred almost
to her neck, the red scar showing how close to her head the flames had
really crept.

"That is a loss, of course," said Mr. French, taking the long waves in
his hand, "but it shows the great danger her life was in. Also, Mr.
Banks, notice this scar. That was dressed on the train by Dr. Brown, of
Fairview."

Both lawyers examined the scar. Tavia felt as if she would run from the
room, the very moment they took their hands off her, but Dorothy smiled