SINCE last we saw them John and Rachel Corrie, apart from the conversation necessitated by business, had scarcely spoken to each other. The man kept a sullen silence, lest in speech he might betray his real intentions; the woman, having come to mistrust in all his ways the being whom she loved more than herself, held her peace lest she should lead him into self-betrayal, for now she feared the worst so greatly that she could not face the sure knowledge thereof. Rachel knew by this time why she had heard no more from Kitty. Her three letters to the girl had never passed beyond the post office—she had actually and secretly witnessed her brother destroy the last—and she naturally assumed that if Kitty had written again, her letter had met a similar fate. Although the new assistant and postman were conversant with their duties, Corrie never failed to postmark with his own hand both outward and inward mails. His manner had become disagreeably furtive; always he seemed to be watching, waiting for something to happen. Rachel’s poor heart bled for him; she blamed the sin more than the sinner; and she would have given her soul to save his. Night after night she lay long awake, brooding, scheming to the end that he might be rescued—in a worldly sense, to begin with. She fondly believed that if he were drawn back from his present sinning, his life for the future would be sinless. She believed, also, that it was Symington whom she would have to overcome in the first place. To Rachel Corrie, Symington, in the night watches, appeared as Satan himself. And at last, at a sultry midnight, such a midnight as had witnessed her dreadful deed for her brother’s sake, a vague idea drifted, from Heaven knows where, into her distracted, weary mind, and lodged there. Ere she slept it had developed to a grim purpose, which even the searching light of morning could not weaken. She would render Symington powerless, helpless, by depriving him of the Zenith certificates! . . . But how? It cost her many more sleepless hours and much aching thought before she could answer the question. But eventually, the way was found, and while it appalled her, she would not turn back. However, she would have to bide her time. For one thing, the mill was at present too busy—the mill which, you will remember, was one of John Corrie’s properties apart from the general store—and the mill was involved in her scheme. For another, a word with Symington might have helpful results. It was on the third evening following that of his castigation that Symington appeared in Dunford. He came in response to a curt note from the postmaster: “It is time you and me had a talk. Look sharp.” A telegram preceded him. For the first time since his last visit Corrie mentioned the man’s name to Rachel. “Symington will be here ’tween eight and nine.” “I’ll be out,” she returned calmly.