CHAPTER XXIV

Lyon would probably have found himself somewhat embarrassed in explaining Kittie and her methods to Miss Wolcott if Mrs. Broughton had not been there. But Mrs. Broughton was there (and so was Mr. Broughton, whose presence at an exceedingly hasty and exceedingly private wedding that morning had been found necessary), and when Kittie saw her she ran to her and clung to her with hidden face, while Lyon told her story to the amazed little group of three.

"Poor child, poor child," murmured Mrs. Broughton, softly, touching the defiant little head that was crushed against her sleeve.

"Will Mr. Lawrence be released, then, without anything further?" asked Edith Wolcott. It was perhaps natural that to her that would be the pivotal point of the situation.

"Immediately. Howell is attending to the red tape of it now. It certainly won't take long."

Edith put up her hand to hide her trembling lips. Mrs. Broughton gave her a glance of sympathetic understanding, and then said to Lyon,

"And what about this dear little girl? Are there any other formalities,--"

"Howell will take care of that. There isn't anything to worry about. Her deposition will be laid before the county attorney, but as I understood it, she is not likely to be called on for much of anything else. The Grand Jury would only act on information laid before them, and if the county attorney is satisfied, there won't be any bill brought. In the meantime,--"

"I won't go back to Miss Elliott's. I won't--ever," Kittie interrupted suddenly.

Lyon glanced hesitatingly at Miss Wolcott, but that young woman was regarding the volcanic schoolgirl with surprise and with no special warmth of emotion.

"That's what she says," said Lyon, with a whimsical appeal. "If she persists, I suppose I must write--or someone must--to her uncle in Columbus, and explain why she refuses, and assure him that she is safe with friends until he can arrange for her."

"I won't go back to Uncle Joe," said Kittie, sitting up suddenly. "Do you think I could go to them and explain that I had--had killed anybody? Why, they would think I was crazy. They would look at me so. I won't go to anybody that knows me."

Lyon looked distressed. Miss Wolcott looked annoyed and perplexed. Mrs. Broughton looked at her husband,--a long glance, at least three sentences long,--and then she said quietly,

"Would you like to come to New York and stay with me for the rest of the winter, Kittie?"

"Would I?" gasped Kittie.

"Do you think your uncle and aunt would consent to your coming to pay me a visit?"

"They'd have to," said Kittie, calmly.

Mrs. Broughton laughed.

"We'll see what we can do by way of persuasion first. We'll go by way of Columbus when we go on, and explain our plans. I can't spare my little nurse yet. In fact, I think I must have you come with me for a while to the Metropole, while we have to stay in Waynscott. That may be--" she glanced inquiringly at Lyon--"a few days? Or a week?"

"Probably."

"Then is that all settled?"

Kittie threw her arms around her. "Oh, I'd do anything in the world for you."

"Then come over to Miss Elliott's at once, and I will explain everything to her while you pack your trunk."

Kittie looked dismayed. "Oh, I can't,--"

"Yes, you can,--with me there. Come, we'll go at once. You'd better come, too. Woods. Miss Elliott has a tremendous respect for your name!"

Broughton, who looked curiously like a lion being petted and enjoying the process, turned to Lyon with benign ferocity.

"You will have to come to New York, too, Mr. Lyon. I need you in my business."

Lyon unconsciously looked at Kittie before answering.

"I am ready to consider any proposition you may make, sir."

"All right. We'll talk it over later. But I warn you I shall leave you no possible room for refusing. Yes, Grace, I'm ready."

The Broughtons took Kittie off, bent on smoothing the path for her, and Miss Wolcott turned to Lyon with a sigh of relief.

"What a wild, unmanageable child! I should think that after all the trouble that has come from her act she would at least be a little subdued."

"Oh, it isn't all trouble," said Lyon, assuming as a matter of course his life-long privilege of being Kittie's defender. "Mr. Broughton came out to Waynscott fully determined to shoot Lawrence at sight. Being in jail probably saved his life,--so you ought to count that to Kittie's credit. And would you ever have known the measure of Lawrence's devotion if he had not had this chance of proving how far he could carry it? Then those letters of yours,--if there hadn't been a mystery about Fullerton's death, I should never have been spurred on to run things down, and if I hadn't those letters might have fallen into who knows whose hands! And Mrs. Broughton's unhappiness,--think of all the trouble and wretchedness those two people are saved through the accident of my being drawn into this Hemlock Avenue mystery! Even Fullerton's death alone would not have cleared the cloud from their lives. It needed the knowledge no one could give them but I,--and I should never have known how much the fact in my possession was needed if I had not met Mrs. Broughton in this curiously intimate way. Indeed, I should probably never have met Mrs. Broughton! Or you! Or Kittie! Or had the friendship of Lawrence. And when you think of each one of us, and how, through this strange tangle, we have all won what we wanted most, don't you think we can say, with Tiny Tim, that all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds?"

He glanced at her, smiling, for confirmation. Her face was so radiant that he thought he had for once in his life succeeded in being eloquent. Then his glance followed her eye to the window, and he realized that she had probably heard nothing of what he had been saying. Lawrence was swinging up Hemlock Avenue at a pace that devoured the distance.

"I--er--really, I must go," murmured Lyon, reaching for his hat.

THE END.