He
jotted them down in his note-book, however, with a feeling that they
might be a last resort.
As he turned the pages of the 'phone-book his eye caught the name of the
city's morgue, and a sudden horror froze into his mind. What if
something had happened to her and she had been taken there? What if she
had ended the life which had looked so lonely and impossible to her? No,
she would never do that, not with her faith in the Christ! And yet, if
her vitality was low, and her heart was taxed with sorrow, she would
perhaps scarcely be responsible for what she did.
He rang up the morgue sharply and put tense, eager questions.
Yes, a young woman had been brought in about an hour ago.... Yes,
dressed in black--had long light hair and was slender. "_Some looker!_"
the man who answered the 'phone said.
Courtland shuddered and hung up. He felt that he must go to the morgue.
When they entered the gruesome place of the unknown dead, although the
Presence entered with him, yet he felt that it was there already,
standing close among the dead; had been there when they came in!
Courtland's face was white, and set as he passed between the silent dead
laid out for identification. An inward shudder went through him as he
was led to the spot where lay the latest comer, a slim young girl with
long golden hair, sodden from the river where she had been found, her
pretty face sharpened and coarsened by sin.
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