Dared for Los Angeles.
By ROLAND ASHFORD PHILLIPS.
(This interesting story was commenced in No. 134 of Nick Carter Stories. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.)
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE CONFESSION.
It was a long time before either Miss Trask or Nash spoke again. The girl was sitting, wet-eyed and silent, in the chair, the book open upon her lap. Nash had walked to the window, and stood gazing out upon the road, which, under the magic of the moonlight, wound along the slope like a wide, silver ribbon.
The notes of a song came faintly through the still night air; in a neighboring cabin some of the men were making merry. The words were silly and meaningless, the tune of a dance-hall variety. Yet both the girl and Nash waited until the song was finished.
Then resolutely Nash turned.
“How long have you been here, Miss Trask?”
“In California? Only a few months. I—I came from New York immediately after my brother was buried. I had given him this book only at Christmas. Out of all his effects—I kept it. I was living at a little hotel near Central Park, and used to go over and pass away the hours reading. I suppose I dropped it—and that man who spoke to you must have picked it up.”
“What led you to take up—this work?” Nash asked.