A REPENTANT SINNER. "How can the patient stars look down On all their light discovers-- The traitor's smile, the murderer's frown, The lips of lying lovers?" When that startling question fell on Miss Erroll's ears she gave a convulsive gasp, and sank limply into the nearest chair. The skilled detective saw quickly that the woman was a coward at heart, and would not be able to sustain the air of bravado with which she had entered. Advancing quickly to her side, he threw back the lapel of his overcoat, revealing to her frightened eyes his detective badge, and continuing: "I am in search of Clifford Standish, and you must tell me where to find him." She trembled like a leaf in a storm, and muttered, with weak defiance: "How should I know?" Norris answered, boldly: "Because you have been in secret correspondence with the man for weeks. Because you were his confederate in the kidnaping of Miss Geraldine Harding." The cry of a beaten animal burst from the cowering woman's lips, and her form shook with fear. "You cannot deny it," added Norris, following up his advantage, while Cissy and Hawthorne looked on in breathless interest. She lifted her pallid face and groaned: "Who is my accuser?" "I am, and this gentleman here, Miss Harding's betrothed, the Harry Hawthorne whom it was pretended in that forged note the young lady had eloped with. I have been watching you and Standish for several weeks, Miss Erroll, and had I not been called away by other business, you had never succeeded in that nefarious abduction. But I have facts enough to warrant me in threatening you with arrest unless you make a full confession!" "Arrest me?" Almost hissing the words, she sprang to her feet, glaring fiercely at him, but the flash of bravado did not intimidate the fearless little detective. "Yes, you," he answered, coolly. "But, after all, I do not like to war upon a woman, even a bad one; so tell me the truth now if you want to escape a prison-cell." Quaking with fear, she dropped back into her chair, covering her writhing features with her trembling white hands. After waiting a moment vainly for her to answer, he asked: "Where is Clifford Standish now?" "I do not know." "How long since you saw him?" "Two weeks ago to-night." "At the time of the kidnaping of Miss Harding?" "Yes." Her answers were given as if dragged from her under stress of fear, but it was plain that she meant to make the confession he demanded. He flashed Cissy and Hawthorne a triumphant look, then said, briskly: "Tell us all about that night and your share in it, as quickly as you can, for our time is very precious."