Nothing in this world can ever stab me again as the poignancy of her recital stabbed me. My life seemed shattered, irreparable. All my dreams were at an end. Laura was gone and here were her children thrust by destiny upon my hands—unless their scoundrel of a father should ever return to relieve me of them. I had lived peacefully and harmlessly in my way, but for some inscrutable reason Fate had selected me for her heaviest blow. "Very well," I told her as kindly as I could in the conditions, "now you go back to Griselda and go to bed. I’ll have to think things out." "Oh—but the house!" exclaimed the little girl—and never again do I wish to see such horror on a childish countenance as at that instant froze the features of little Alicia. "All alone," she added, her thin shoulders heaving. "Aren’t you going over now, sir?" "Now!" I exclaimed, looking automatically at my watch. "Why—yes—in a few minutes, child." "But—Hattie is there alone—" she stammered. "There’s nobody else—then I’d better go back." It was obvious, of course, that I must go at once. But why should a child see spontaneously that to which I am obtuse? "Oh, well, you are right, of course—I must go immediately—I hadn’t thought—I’ll go over now"—and I turned away from her, lifted the curtain and gazed out into the wet, murky street below. Life had collapsed and the ruins of it were tumbled about my hot ears. I hardly know how long I stood there, completely oblivious of the girl Alicia. "Please, Mr. Byrd," I was startled to hear a tearful, childish voice behind me—"won’t you see the children before you go, sir?" I wheeled about sharply. "The children? Oh, yes—no!" The horror of the situation fell about me like an avalanche that had hung suspended for a moment and then crashed smotheringly over me. "No," I whispered huskily, "I can’t—not now—not now!" A kind of chill darkness numbed my senses. Like a pistol shot I suddenly heard the harsh voice of Griselda in the doorway. "The cab is at the door, Mr. Randolph. Don’t forget your rubbers." And like an automaton galvanized into life I found myself whirling to the house of death. *CHAPTER IV* For a week the children have been with me and nothing has yet been done about them. Another week, I think, will drive me mad with indecision. I seem unable to emerge from the shadow of mystery and terror into which my serene world has been so suddenly plunged. The book-lined study is my solitary refuge; and like a schoolgirl I can do no more than unpack my heart with words. I have seen Gertrude. It is astonishing how resourceless are even one’s nearest and dearest friends in face of anything really capital. "Poor Ranny! How ghastly!" Gertrude cried, when she first heard of it, wringing my hand. "But buck up, dear boy. You know how I feel. There is a way out for everything." She spoke, I thought, as though I were in need of ready money.