Margie looked into the bewilderingly beautiful face with suspended
breath. The woman's passionate presence scorched her; she could not
be herself, with those eyes of fire blazing down into hers.
Alexandrine resumed, "I am wasting time. Let me hurry on to the end, or
your lover will be here before I finish."
"My lover!" cried Margie, in a dazed sort of way, "_my lover_? O yes I
remember, Archer Trevlyn was coming. Is it nearly time for him?"
Alexandrine took the shrinking, cowering girl by the shoulders, and
lifted her into a seat.
"Rouse yourself, Margie. I have not done. I want you to hear it all."
"Yes, I am hearing."
It was pitiful to see how helpless and weak the poor child had become.
All sense of joy and sorrow seemed to have died out of her.
"I feared so much that when the body of the murdered man should be
discovered, there would be some clue which would point to the guilty
party! Such a night as I passed, while they searched for the body! I
thought I should go mad!" She hid her face in her hands, and her figure
shook like a leaf in the autumn wind.
"When the dog took us to the graveyard, I thought I would be the first
inside--I would see if there was anything left on the ground to point to
the real murderer.
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