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David's favourite, a big collie, sprang up from his place on the rug
before the fire and looked uneasily toward the door opening onto the
hall. Then came a rapping at the front door. The collie growled softly as
he moved toward the door. He sniffed the air in the hall and suddenly

began to whine joyously, wagging his tail as he bounded back and forth
between his master and the door.
David Windom knew then that his daughter had come home.
He sprang to his feet and took two long strides toward the door.
Abruptly, as if suddenly turned to stone, he stopped. For a long time he
stood immovable in the middle of the room. The rapping was repeated,
louder, heavier than before. He turned slowly, retraced his steps to the
fireplace and took from its rack in the corner a great iron poker. His
face was ashen grey, his eyes were wide and staring and terrible. Then
he strode toward the door, absolutely unconscious of the glad, prancing
dog at his side.
In the poor shelter of the little porch stood Alix, bent and shivering, and,
behind her, Edward Crown, at whose feet rested two huge "telescope
satchels." The light from within fell dimly upon the white, upturned
face of the girl. She held out her hands to the man who towered above
her on the doorstep.
"Daddy! Daddy!" she cried brokenly. "Oh, my daddy! Let me come
in--let me,--I--I am freezing."
But David Windom was peering over her head at the indistinct face of
the man beyond. He wanted to be sure. Lifting his powerful arm, he
struck.
Edward Crown, stiff and numb with cold and weak from an illness of
some duration, did not raise an arm to ward off the blow, nor was he
even prepared to dodge. The iron rod crashed down upon his head. His
legs crumpled up; he dropped in a heap at the top of the steps and
rolled heavily to the bottom, sprawling out on the snow-covered brick
walk.
The long night wore on. Windom had carried his daughter into the
sitting-room, where he placed her on a lounge drawn up before the fire.
She had fainted. After an hour he left her and went out into the night.
The body of Edward Crown was lying where it had fallen. It was

covered by a thin blanket of snow. For a long time he stood gazing
down upon the lifeless shape. The snow cut his face, the wind threshed
about his coatless figure, but he heeded them not. He was muttering to
himself. At last he turned to re-enter the house. His daughter was
standing in the open doorway.
"Is--is that Edward down there?" she asked, in weak, lifeless tones. She
seemed dull, witless, utterly without realization.
"Go back in the house," he whispered, as he drew back from her in a
sort of horror,--horror that had not struck him in the presence of the
dead.
"Is that Edward?" she insisted, her voice rising to a queer, monotonous
wail.
"I told you to stay in the house," he said. "I told you I would look after
him, didn't I? Go back, Alix,--that's a good girl. Your--your daddy
will--Oh, my God! Don't look at me like that!"
"Is he dead?" she whispered, still standing very straight in the middle of
the doorway. She was not looking at the inert thing on the walk below,
but into her father's eyes. He did not, could not answer. He seemed
frozen stiff. She went on in the same dull, whispered monotone. "I
begged him to let me come alone. I begged him to let me see you first.
But he would come. He brought me all the way from the West and
he--he was not afraid of you. You have done what you said you would
do. You did not give him a chance. And always,--always I have loved
you so. You will never know how I longed to come back and have you
kiss me, and pet me, and call me those silly names you used--"
"What's done, is done," he broke in heavily. "He is dead. It had to be. I
was insane,--mad with all these months of hatred. It is done.
Come,--there is nothing you can do. Come back into the house. I will
carry him in--and wake somebody. Tomorrow they will come and take
me away. They will hang me. I am ready. Let them come. You must
not stand there in the cold, my child."

She toppled forward into his arms, and he lifted her as if she were a
babe and carried her into the house. The collie was whining in the
corner. Windom sat down in the big armchair before the fire, still
holding the girl in his arms.