Meanwhile, upstairs, granny, having locked the door with a stifled oath, dropped down on the rug, and lay for long hours in a drunken stupor, while the dreary night wore on. Suddenly, as the bells hoarsely clanged four in the morning, granny started broad awake, shivering with cold in the fireless room, and sat up and looked about her, whimpering like a startled child: "Liane! Liane!" A sudden comprehension seemed to dawn upon her, and, getting up heavily, she stalked into the inner room. The dim lamp was burning low, casting eerie shadows about the room, and she walked over to the bed, where she had thrown something the evening before. The ghastly thing lay there still, just as she had placed it with the coverlid drawn up to the chin, the silent lips fallen apart, the eyes a little open and staring dully, as granny placed her skinny claw over the heart, feeling for a pulsation. There was none. She had done her work well. Her victim--the victim of eighteen years of most barbarous cruelty--lay pale and motionless before her, the mute lips uttering no reproach for her crime. The old woman gazed and gazed, as if she could never get done looking, and then her face changed, her lips twitched, she blinked her eyelids nervously, and sank down by the bed, overcome by a sudden and terrible remorse. "My God! What have I done?" she groaned self-reproachfully. Far back in granny's life was a time when she had been a better woman. It seemed to return upon her now. She groped beneath the coverlid for Liane's cold, stiff hand. "Liane, little angel, I am sorry," she muttered. "I would bring you back if I could! Oh, why did the foul fiend send her here to tempt me to the damnation of this deed? But she is safe now! Roma is safe now! And she has promised that I shall not miss Liane's labor." A new thought struck her. It would soon be day, and she must hasten to hide the evidence of her crime. She started up nervously, and busied herself searching Liane for the coveted money, but not finding it, she began other necessary preparations. It was that dismal hour that comes before the dawn, when she stole through Mrs. Brinkley's dark halls and passed like a shadow through the side door, escaping safely into the street with a shawled and hooded burden that must be safely hidden from the sight of men. Lightly and softly fell the cold December snow, covering up the footprints of the skulking woman; but they could not blot the dark stain of crime from her black soul. Dawn came slowly, and broadened into perfect day, and in the Brinkley house the household stirred and went about accustomed tasks. Soon granny's voice went snarling through the open door, calling shrilly downstairs: "Liane! Liane!" Lizzie White answered back from the kitchen: "She is not here!" Then granny tapped on Miss Nutter's door. "Is that lazy baggage in here?"