"But he need not be afraid of Sergeant now," she said, with a little tremor in her voice. "He will come earlier tonight." The unintentional sarcasm did not escape Mrs. Strong. "Wait till tomorrow, Aunt Nancy. Then I may tell you." "You are trembling, dear. I wish you would let me make your excuses to him when he comes. Don't see him tonight. Let me tell him--" Alix turned squarely and faced her. There was a harassed, haunted expression in her eyes,--and yet there was defiance. "I stayed away five days," she said huskily. "For five days I kept away from him. Then I--I gave up. I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to come home. Now, you have the truth. I just simply HAD to see him, Aunt Nancy,--I just HAD to." "Then,--then it IS a spell," cried the other, dismay in her voice. "You are not yourself, Alix. This is not you who say these things." "Oh, yes, it is!" cried the girl recklessly. "I wanted to come home. I wanted to see him. I don't love him, but I wanted to be with him. I don't trust him, but here I am. Now you have it all! I want to see him!" Mrs. Strong was looking past her. She stared hard at the window in the far end of the room, her eyes narrowed, her chin thrust slightly forward. Then suddenly she clutched the girl's arm, her eyes now widespread with alarm. "Look!" she whispered shrilly, pointing. The flush faded from Alix's face; the reckless, defiant light left her eyes, and in its place came fear. II Plainly outlined in the window was the face of a masked man. A narrow black mask, through which a pair of eyes gleamed brightly. The exposed lower portion of the face, save for the heavily bearded upper lip, was ghastly white. Brief as this glimpse was, they were able to see that he wore a cap, pulled well down over his forehead. For a few seconds the two women stood as if petrified, their eyes wide and staring, their hearts cold, their tongues paralyzed. They were gazing straight into his shining eyes. Suddenly he turned his head for a quick, startled glance over his shoulder. The next instant he was gone, vanishing in the blackness that hung behind him like the magician's curtain in a theatre. They heard rapid footsteps on the veranda, the crash of a chair overturned, then a loud shout, and again the sound of flying footsteps across the brick-paved terrace. Another shout, and still another, farther away. "Quick!" screamed Alix, the first to recover her voice. "The telephone! Call the drug store. Bill Foss is there." She ran swiftly out into the hall. "Come back!" cried Mrs. Strong. "What are you doing? Don't open that door! He's got a pistol, Alix!" Even as she spoke, the report of a pistol shot came to their ears. As Alix stopped short, her hand outstretched to clutch the door knob, a second report came. "Oh, my God!" she cried. "He has killed Courtney! He has shot Courtney!" By this time, her companion had reached her side. She dragged her back from the door.