"So, Mrs. Alden," Garth said, "you left him again. To warn the others?"
She did not answer. He shrugged his shoulders.
"Anyway," he went on, "when you came back and found him at the key you didn't have time to get to him, and you weren't quite as bad as you should have been. You let him unlock the door. You didn't have the nerve to shoot—your husband."
"Don't, Jim," Nora warned. "You don't understand."
Frankly he didn't, but he knew that Mrs. Alden, in a sense, still controlled the situation. Her revolver could compel their movements. Its explosion would doubtless bring help swarming to her side.
"And you see," Nora went on, speaking to her gently, "what a useless sacrifice it would have been. Everything was finished for you the moment I lighted the beacon."
Mrs. Alden nodded.
Garth grinned as the protective feminine instinct expressed itself through this woman in her most intricate hour.
"It was all arranged," she said. "If you will close that door the house will be safe enough from the fire."
She indicated her husband. There were tears in her eyes again.
"You will take care of him?"
"Yes," Nora said.
