The Corner House

by Fred M. White

Lawrence laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Patience, a little patience," he whispered. "It is not for very long. You will please stay here and see a confession signed."

"My confession!" Leona Lalage cried.

"Even so, Madame. I make no idle boast. Before I leave here the name of an innocent man will be cleared."

Leona Lalage smiled unsteadily. Her lips twitched horribly.

"Go on," she whispered. "Go on, mine enemy."

[CHAPTER LX.]

NARROWED DOWN.

It was a curious scene, a scene to remember long afterwards. In all Lawrence's imaginative writing he had never constructed anything more striking than this. He was about to hear the story of a strange crime, and it could not be told in a better setting than the Corner House.