She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. . But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. You shall have your reward. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out.
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