the Hales' and leaned forward to have a better look at the lighted windows.
He had not noticed Gregg, who at first failed to make out the man's features; Gregg caught only his posture and said to himself, "Here's some one who knows something." Then Gregg's reactions ran on, "He knows that home's broken; he's come to see what he's to have out of the smash; he's not trying to take it now; he's willing to wait because he knows—by God, he's Rinderfeld!"
Gregg almost called that aloud; he was not sure he did not; he did move and betray his presence, for Rinderfeld's aquiline outline was gone; gears sounded, the motor moved off. And Gregg stood staring after him, the box of flowers on the grass.
"Rinderfeld!" he repeated in fright with himself and felt the return of that stark terror by which, in his dream, he had been helpless to move to save Marjorie from sinking in the mire. "Rinderfeld's waiting outside for her, to get her when we've fallen down at doing anything for her and her home's gone. Rinderfeld wants her!"
More than that, indeed, Gregg had caught in that flash of recognition of Rinderfeld's features in the rays of the arc light, but he could not say the whole of it even to himself; it was, "Rinderfeld knows how he will get her."
Gregg was watching the tail light of Rinderfeld's car which turned the corner next and did not seem to pick up speed after completing the turn. Gregg received the idea that Rinderfeld was stopping around the corner and he was about to follow to ascertain the truth when he heard the front door of the Hale house open. A girl appeared in the oblong of light—Mar-
