"It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. You are my prisoner, murderer. She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend.
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