Michelle’s eyes widened. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. What right had she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. ’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. During detention she orchestrated Ray Plote's murder. CHAPTER XVII.
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