“She is devoted to him. Why shouldn’t she be? He has done everything for her.” “How happens that?” “It’s the kind of story that makes you love your kind,” said the girl dreamily. “When Mr. Haynes first came here he was a young reporter with a small income, and Helga was a child of twelve with an eager mind and the promise of a lovely voice. He gave her books and got the Johnstons to send her to a good school. Then as she grew up and he came to be ‘star man’ (I think they call it) on his paper, he went to the Johnstons, who had come to know him well, and asked them to let him send Helga to preparatory school and then to college. It was agreed that she was not to know of the money that he put in their hands, and she never would have known except for something that happened in her freshman year. She held her tongue to save a classmate. They were going to expel her, when Mr. Haynes got wind of it, took the first train, ferreted out the truth, and went to the president. “‘Here are the facts,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave them for you to act on, or I’ll take them with me for publication, as you decide.’ “The case was hushed up; but in the adjustment Helga found out about Mr. Haynes’ part in her education. Now he is arranging for her musical education. He has no family, nor anyone dependent on him; all his interests in life are centred in her. And the best of it is that she is worthy of it.” “It must be a great deal to such a man to inspire such absolute trust in a woman as he has in her,” said Colton after a pause. “‘I knew he would come after me,’ she said when I asked her how she dared take so desperate a chance.” Miss Ravenden nodded at him appreciatively. “Yes; you see it too,” she said. “You did something worth while when you saved those two. But what about your Portuguese? Do you really think he had anything to do with killing that poor sailor? Helga told me about it. What an extraordinary case it is!” “What puzzles Haynes with his trained mind is surely too much for me,” said Colton. “It seems that the man—great Heaven! What was that?” From the direction of the beach came a long-drawn, dreadful scream of agony, unhuman, yet with something of an appeal in it, too. The pair turned blanched faces toward each other. “I must go over there at once,” said Colton. “Someone is in trouble. Miss Ravenden, can you make your way to the house alone?” The girl’s small, rounded chin went up and outward. “I shall go with you,” she said. “You must not. There’s no telling what may have happened. Please!” With a swift, deft movement she parted the heavy handle of her net-stock, disclosing an ingeniously set revolver, which she pressed into his hand. “I’m going with you,” she repeated, with the most alluring obstinacy. “Come, then,” said Colton, and her pulses stirred to the tone. He caught her by the hand, and they ran, reaching the cliff-top breathless.