“And left Margie to perish in the flames?” “Got help me, I did.” Lamont leaned back and looked at the woman, whose face was deathly white. “Did she perish?” he asked at last. “She must have died in the old house. I did not stay to look after her. Fear lent speed to my limbs, and I ran like a deer. Not for the world would I have gone back.” “You’ve killed the girl!” hissed Claude Lamont. “You’ve made a murderess out of yourself.” Nora did not speak, but looked into the young man’s face and exposed anew the whiteness of her own. “I suppose you haven’t been there since?” he said. “What, go back to that spot? Never!” Claude Lamont drained the glass at his elbow and seemed to take a long breath. “What makes you fear this man, Carter? What did he ever do that gives you the chills?” “That’s my secret,” cried the woman, half defiantly. “What makes him your enemy, and, pray, what did you do that his name terrifies you?” She did not answer him. “Look here!” suddenly said Claude. “If you’ve killed the girl by your faint heart I’ll hold you responsible.” “Just as you please,” was the reply. Nora seemed to be getting her old nerve back, for she spoke with spirit, and her cheeks flushed for the first time. “You never got such orders from me,” he went on. “I know it. I dropped the lamp----” “Come, no excuses,” interrupted the young man. “I shall hold you responsible--guilty of murder.” “Just as if you never did anything that has a shady side,” hissed the woman. “You’re a nice man to talk thus. What have you done that makes an angel out of you, I should like to know?” “No accusations, woman.” “Very well. Will you hand me over to the police? Will you tell the inspector that I am the last person who saw the girl alive? I guess not!” “Don’t dare me.” “What if I tell them that Margie was Mother Flintstone’s granddaughter----” “She wasn’t!” flashed Claude Lamont. “You take it up in a jiffy,” grinned Nora. “If she wasn’t why did you resent my words so soon?” For half a second Lamont watched the dark face before him, and then he said: “We’ll call it quits. After all, perhaps you couldn’t have helped it. The lamp fell from your hand, did it?” “I told you once.” “And you couldn’t stop the flames?” “I couldn’t. I’d give my eyes if that girl was alive to-day. I did not do it intentionally. My evil genius must have been on the watch.” “We’ll say so, at any rate, Nora.” It was the first time he had spoken her name during the interview, and his voice was considerably softened. “The department may have reached the fire in time to save the girl,” he went on. “No, no! she perished. The whole house was in flames by the time I got away. I’m going now.” “Still afraid of the detective’s shadow?” “Never mind the detective. I’m going, I say.” “Do you mean that you’re going away?” “Yes--to put ten thousand miles between me and that infernal crime of mine.” Lamont drew forth his pocketbook and began to count out some bills.