XXIII SARA WRANDALL'S DECISION

XXIV THE JURY OF FOUR

XXV RENUNCIATION





CHAPTER I

MARCH COMES IN LIKE THE LION




The train, which had roared through a withering gale of sleet
all the way up from New York, came to a standstill, with many an
ear-splitting sigh, alongside the little station, and a reluctant
porter opened his vestibule door to descend to the snow-swept
platform: a solitary passenger had reached the journey's end. The
swirl of snow and sleet screaming out of the blackness at the end
of the station-building enveloped the porter in an instant, and
cut his ears and neck with stinging force as he turned his back
against the gale. A pair of lonely, half-obscured platform lights
gleamed fatuously at the top of their icy posts at each end of the
station; two or three frost-encrusted windows glowed dully in the
side of the building, while one shone brightly where the operator
sat waiting for the passing of No. 33.