that was meant to put every one at ease. "No crime has been committed,
so don't be nervous, any of you. Just a little private matter of--of"
--His gaze went swiftly to the eager, uplifted face of little Kathleen,
and he never completed the sentence. As he turned his face away,
ostensibly to find his place in the book, his lower lip trembled, and
a mist came over his eyes.

The dramatic enthusiasm with which he was wont to read the Dickens
story was sadly lacking. He read lifelessly, uncertainly, and at times
almost inaudibly. There was a queer huskiness in his voice that made
it necessary for him to clear his throat frequently.

[Illustration with caption: Amy Fairweather and Flanders]

Under ordinary conditions, he would have observed the singular
aloofness of Miss Fairweather and the reporter who was there by virtue
of an assignment. They retained their somewhat sequestered position in
the window seat, effectually screened by the curtains, and whispered
softly to each other, utterly oblivious to the monotonous drone of the
reader, quite in a little world of their own.

Flanders was pleading earnestly with the rigid-faced girl. Her
cautious, infrequent responses were not of an encouraging nature, that
was plain to be seen, but he too was obdurate. He held one of her slim
hands in a grip that could not be broken, as she had discovered to her
dismay. Mr. Bingle read on, ignorant of the little drama that went on
under his very nose, so to speak, and those of his auditors who were
not nodding their heads in frank drowsiness, were so completely
wrapped up in extraneous thoughts concerning the visit of the
detective that they had eyes for no one except the person who could