When Lyon left the Wolcotts, he hurried for the car to reach Howell's office as quickly as possible. As he went down Hemlock Avenue he saw a group of Miss Elliott's girls taking their daily constitutional under the supervision of Miss Rose. In orderly ranks, two by two, they crossed the street sedately, and up on the opposite side, and Lyon scrutinized them eagerly to discover if Kittie was among them. There she was, near the center of the procession, her tall, slight figure swinging in the time of the march, but somehow so much more individual and graceful than any of the others! He was so absorbed in watching her as the file came nearer that he did not notice at all the sound of a runaway behind him until a light delivery wagon, with one wheel gone, dashed frantically by, in the direction of the girls. The horse, wild with terror at the ungainly thing which bumped at his heels, swung in toward the sidewalk, and in a moment the girls had broken ranks and were flying, in swift disorder, in all directions. Lyon had instinctively broken into a run as soon as he saw the situation, but if he had any intention of catching the horse and cutting an heroic figure in the eyes of Kittie, the thought was utterly and absolutely forgotten the next instant. Instead, he suddenly stood stock still in the middle of the street, staring at one of the girls who had cut diagonally across the road with the long, easy running gait that he had seen once and only once before. It was the girl who had fled from the scene of Fullerton's murder, and so had swept for an instant across the field of Lyon's vision,--and it was not the frail and delicate invalid, Mrs. Broughton, nor yet the slow and stately Miss Wolcott. This was a young athlete, who ran with a grace, a sureness, that made the sight a joy and unforgettable. It was not until she had turned again and was clinging to his arm for protection that he fully realized what it meant that he should have identified the running girl whom he had so long been searching for with Kittie Tayntor.

"Oh, Cousin Percy, wasn't it perfectly beautiful that the horse should run away right here and give you a chance to rescue me like this? I have always wanted to be rescued to see what it would feel like. The girls in the novels almost always faint, but I never faint, so I knew I would always be able to remember afterwards just how it felt. I was so glad when I saw that you were the only man in sight on the street!"

"Kittie, when we were talking about Mr. Fullerton, why didn't you tell me what you knew about it?"

"What I knew? About what?"

"About the--accident."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

She looked so plainly bewildered that his heart sank. Could it be, after all, that she really knew nothing. She must know! He took up the filmy clue carefully.

"Kittie, one evening not long ago--it was on the Monday before Thanksgiving--I was on Hemlock Avenue opposite Miss Wolcott's, and I saw a girl run across the street, and in at the Wolcotts' side yard. She ran just as you ran a minute ago when that horse startled you. Wasn't that girl you?"

"Oh, yes! I didn't know what you were talking about. Did you really see me then? How curious! Then that was the first time!"

"It was a little before ten?"

She nodded, her eyes dancing with suppressed mischief, though she drew her lips down like a fair penitent.

"Where had you been, Kittie?"

"To the skating rink on Elm Street."

"Alone?"

She nodded again, and glanced back at Miss Rose, who was gathering her scattered flock together at a safe distance beyond hearing.

"It was this way," she said, hurriedly. "Everybody else had gone home for the vacation on Saturday, and Miss Elliott had made me stay till Tuesday to make up some history. I was just wild about it, missing three whole days. I got thinking what I could do to get even,--it would be a secret satisfaction even if she never knew it. So Monday night I climbed down from my room by way of the window, and got out by the Secret Passage I told you there was, and went to the rink and had a splendid time. I knew Miss Elliott had a friend visiting her, and so she would not be likely to think of me or anything like that. And she didn't. She never knew I wasn't learning the names of the Roman emperors, horrid old things, all the time."

"But, Kittie, is that all?"

"Goodness! Miss Elliott would think it was enough!"

"But what made you run so? You ran as though you were frightened."

She gave him a startled look and half turned away. She did not answer.

"What frightened you? Had you seen anything,--a row, or a fight of any sort?"

She shook her head. "I was frightened," she said, "but it isn't worth talking about. Besides, it isn't pleasant. I don't want to talk about it."

"But I have a very special reason for asking, Kittie. It isn't just curiosity."

"Well, a horrid man frightened me. I suppose he was drunk. But if Miss Elliott knew about that--!"

"How did he frighten you?"

"He jumped out at me. It's a kind of dark place on Sherman Street, and I was scurrying along and I didn't see him at all until I was right up to him, and then as I hurried by he suddenly jumped out and caught my arm."

"Did you scream?"

"I shrieked and struck at him--"

"What with?"

"Why, I just struck out. But I had my skates in my hand and I guess I hit him, because he let go of my arm. Then I ran as hard as I could."

The physician's testimony at the inquest flashed across Lyon's mind,--"a heavy instrument with a cutting edge." Kitty's skate and not Lawrence's cane! The relief was so great that he almost forgot the necessity of establishing all the links. But Miss Rose was approaching, and he knew he must lose no time.

"How was he dressed, Kittie?"

"Goodness! I didn't stop to see."

"But in dark clothes or light? Did he wear a hat?"

"He had a long loose grey coat, and a hat pulled away down over his eyes. And a silk muffler around his throat was pulled up over his chin. That came off in my hand when I pushed him away. I didn't know I had it until I had run half a block. Then I threw it in the street."

Lyon nodded. "I found it. Now, Kittie, I want you to come and show me the exact spot on Sherman Street where this happened."

Her face was already flushed and her breath coming fast with her recital, but she now looked annoyed at his persistence.

"I can't. Miss Rose is waiting for me now. And besides,--" she hesitated to impugn his chivalry by so unworthy a suggestion, but needs must,--"you aren't going to tell?"

"Kittie, haven't you any idea who that man was?"

She looked shocked at the question. "Of course not!" Then the seriousness of his tone struck her and she began to tremble.

"What do you mean?"

"It was Mr. Fullerton,--I am sure it must have been. But you must come and show me the spot. You know that Mr. Lawrence is in jail under suspicion of having killed him."

"Yes." Then, suddenly, she understood. She went very white and her eyes grew large with horror. He feared she would faint, but Kittie was not of the fainting sort. Instead she began talking volubly, in intense nervous excitement.

"I don't care, he hadn't any business to jump out of the shadows in that way. He just did it to frighten me, and it made my heart beat so terribly that I didn't know what I was doing. I just struck at him and I didn't think about the skates, and if Miss Elliott hears about it she will simply be hysterical. I'll have to tell her how I got out and that will be breaking my initiation oath and there will simply be nothing terrible enough for her to say. And--" she stopped suddenly as a new horror struck her, and gasped. "Will they put me in jail?"

"I think probably not, but we'll have to see Mr. Howell, the lawyer, and let him arrange in regard to all that."

His hesitancy was more terrible than anything she had expected. It struck her dumb.

"You never suspected, when you saw the report in the paper the next day, that the man found dead on Sherman Street was the man you had met?"

"I never saw the papers," said Kittie. "Miss Elliott doesn't allow them to come into the school. And besides I went away early Tuesday morning, you know,............