George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, and that bag has been traced to the house where they were." There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on: "I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken every precaution--what is that?" He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror. "Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You--surely you have had nothing to do with this?" "No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I fear--I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!" Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly upon Hitchcock. "Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could not have got in without help. You had a key--you were talking to her after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, look at that man!" But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded out of the door. Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand. "Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more." Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern face lightened. "Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly." "Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then." "Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over."