Right behind him stood Marion Marlowe, her cheeks as white as death, while her beautiful eyes seemed glazed with horror. “Quick! Let me see that tag!” she whispered sharply. “Oh, I am almost sure you must be mistaken!” In less than a second there was a guard beside her, but his presence was unnecessary, for not one of the convicts would have harmed her. “It is Mary Ray, all right,” said the guard, showing her the tag. “Do you know her, miss? Has somebody blundered?” “Somebody has blundered, terribly!” said Marion, more calmly. “That coffin must not be taken to Hart’s Island, men. Why, I know her husband, and such a thing would kill him!” “It’s a wonder she’s where she is if he thought so much of her,” muttered one of the convicts. “You don’t understand,” said Marion, sadly. “It is just as the guard said—somebody has blundered.” The captain was consulted, but he was an obstinate man. “Can’t do it, nurse! I’ve got orders and I have to obey them! It’s government biz. You can’t monkey with the government.” “It shall never be buried in Potter’s Field,” said Marion, pointing to the coffin, “for I will not leave the boat until I have your promise, captain! You must not refuse me! The thing would be too awful!” “I’ll put back, then,” said the captain, after a moment’s thought. “It won’t take a half hour, and I guess it won’t matter.” As they neared the dock they could see a group of people waiting for them, among them was Dr. Brookes, waving and shouting frantically. “You see they want us to come back!” cried Marion, triumphantly. “I told you it was a blunder, and they have discovered it!” Then the brave, beautiful girl turned suddenly paler than ever before, for there on the dock, with his head bent in grief, stood her friend, Archie Ray, this dead woman’s husband. CHAPTER XIII. THE END OF THE TRAGEDY. Marion had kept her promise to watch for Mr. Ray’s wretched young wife, and it was her grim determination alone that secured for the poor creature a Christian burial. Never to her dying day would the brave girl forget the scene on that little dock when the “dead boat” drew alongside with her dreadful cargo. “Gently, men!” she cried as a couple of convicts lifted the pine coffin. “Remember that all are not so accustomed to these sights as we are, and this poor creature was once a beautiful woman!” The men heard her silently, but they obeyed her commands. The box was deposited gently, and then the _Fidelity_ steamed away again at an order from the official. Marion’s glance swept hastily over the group on the dock. They were mostly attaches of the monstrous prison, but the next instant her gaze rested upon two manly forms, and the pathos of the scene brought tears that blinded her vision. Mr. Ray was standing like one stricken by some fearful blow, his arm resting heavily on Dr. Brooke’s broad shoulder.