Paula rushed to the top of the landing and looked down. Below, she saw a procession of people slowly ascending the stairs. First came the stalwart policeman bearing something white in his arms, then came the tall, thin man in the linen duster, followed by a number of women weeping and wailing. Paula felt herself grow pale. A vague intuition told her that a terrible tragedy had occurred. Her heart seemed to stop beating. Up and up, closer and closer, came the policeman with his burden. "What is it?" cried Paula, scarcely able to control herself. "A child run over, m'm," answered the officer stolidly. Tears were in his eyes as he added: "It's little Annie Hughes. I'm afraid it's all over." The child's form was limp, the eyes were closed, her little dress was saturated with blood. "Oh, God!" With an involuntary shriek of horror, Paula staggered back into the attic. Her first thought was of the poor mother, to save her the shock of seeing the body of her mangled child, but as she crossed the threshold, she suddenly felt sick and dizzy. The room seemed to swim round. She called loudly: "Mr. Chase! Come quick!" Then she fainted, just as Tod reached her. [Illustration: THE AGONIZED SCREAM OF A MOTHER ROBBED OF HER YOUNG.] But poor Mrs. Hughes had heard the shriek and she answered it with one even more terrible--the agonized scream of a mother robbed of her young. Suddenly possessed of almost superhuman strength, she left the bed and staggered to the door while Tod, panicstricken, was dashing cold water into Paula's face, trying to revive her. The policeman entered with his pathetic burden and laid the child gently on the bed. "We've rung for an ambulance," he explained, "but----" A fierce, hysterical outburst interrupted him. The wretched mother snatched her child from his grasp and, fondling it to her almost naked breast, tried with wild, staring eyes and trembling hands to find its injuries. Not understanding, unable to help, crushed under the awful weight of this supreme blow which had stricken her, she frantically kissed the child's white face and called upon her by name. The tall, thin man in the linen duster advanced, felt the child's pulse, and then tried to lead the mother away. "Madam," he said, "I'm a doctor. There's nothing to be done. It's all over. I can't tell you how I deplore this accident. If money can help matters, I am willing to pay. The little girl ran right into my automobile as I was turning the corner." Turning to the policeman, he added: "It was an accident, officer, wasn't it? Thank God, you were a witness to that. Everybody saw how it happened." The policeman glared angrily at him. Almost savagely he replied: "You may thank your stars it was, or you'd never have got out of this neighborhood alive. They'd have strung you up to a lamppost sure as fate, and served you right. I guess it was an accident, all right, and you're not to blame, but I'll have to arrest you, anyway, on a technical charge of homicide."