It was in one of the rolls that went
out on the tray."
The Doctor's eyes gleamed. He gave Dale's shoulder a sympathetic
pat.
"Now don't you worry about it--I'll get it," he said. Then, on
the point of going toward the dining-room, he turned.
"But--you oughtn't to have it in your possession," he said
thoughtfully. "Why not let it be burned?"
Dale was on the defensive at once.
"Oh, no! It's important, it's vital!" she said decidedly.
The Doctor seemed to consider ways and means of getting the paper.
"The tray is in the dining-room?" he asked.
"Yes," said Dale.
He thought a moment, then left the room by the hall door. Dale
sank back in her chair and felt a sense of overpowering relief
steal over her whole body, as if new life had been poured into her
veins. The Doctor had been so helpful--why had she not confided
in him before? He would know what to do with the paper--she would
have the benefit of his counsel through the rest of this troubled
time. For a moment she saw herself and Jack, exonerated, their
worries at an end, wandering hand in hand over the green lawns of
Cedarcrest in the cheerful sunlight of morning.
Behind her, mockingly, the head of the Unknown concealed behind the
settee lifted cautiously until, if she had turned, she would have
just been able to perceive the top of its skull.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE BLACKENED BAG
As it chanced, she did not turn. The hall door opened--the head
behind the settee sank down again.
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