Miss Huckins, _where is my brother_ ?" At this question, uttered with emphasis, with anxiety--with indignation even--Miss Unwin felt the emotion she had so successfully subdued up to this moment, betray itself in her voice as she answered, with a quiet motion towards the elevator: "Let us go up to our room.

There I will answer all your questions." But Carmel, with the waywardness of her years--or perhaps, with deeper reasoning powers than the other would be apt to attribute to her--broke softly away from Miss Unwin's detaining hand, and walking directly into the office, looked about for the newspaper stand.

Miss Unwin, over-anxious not to make a scene, followed, but did not seek to deter her, until they were once again by themselves in the centre of the room.
Then she ventured to speak again: "We have all the papers in our room.

Come up, and let me read them to you." But Fate was making ready its great stroke.

Just as Carmel seemed about to yield to this persuasion, some lingering doubt drew her eyes again to the stand, just at the very moment a boy stepped into view with the evening bulletin, on which had just been written these words: The Last Juror Obtained in the Trial of Arthur Cumberland for the Murder of His Sister, Adelaide.
Carmel saw, and stood--a breathless image of horror.