lady's life here. I guess you've been holding your own end up on the prayers, Rand."
"Dad—what is it?"—Janet, watching her father intently, had risen suddenly from the sofa and come to the table.
A grave, serious, troubled look had spread over the genial, hearty features, as Warden Rand had raised his eyes and fixed them on the doctor. He turned now and patted the hand that Janet laid on his shoulder.
"Nothing, dear—nothing," he said. "I was thinking that Doctor Kreelmar was—right."
She shook her head reprovingly.
"You mustn't try to equivocate with me, dad," she said quietly. "I understand you too well for that, you know. Something has happened in reference to Varge. I can see it in your face. What is it?"
Doctor Kreelmar hitched forward a little in his chair, and squinted at the warden.
"State superintendent getting a trifle ahead of the Fourth with his fireworks? Kind of riled up over the escape, eh?"
"No," said the warden, shaking his head. "He's not making any fuss about it."
"Dad," insisted Janet, "you know it is perfectly useless to try and hide anything—I shall only keep on coaxing until I get it out of you. So now—what is it?"
Warden Rand regarded her soberly for a moment.
"Yes; I suppose you will," he said, with a grave, tolerant smile. "I hadn't meant you to know until after you came back. Kreelmar, here, has kind of stirred up something that I've been trying not to think about." He
