Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground.
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