To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. Besides, he was a Yale man. “I’m sorry. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. . ” “You would let him—knowing—all that you know?” “Why not? She is my flesh and blood.
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