"It was mine," said the girl, "about seven hundred dollars."
Bach hissed, "That's a lie! She had two dollars and thirty-three cents on her when we took her in."
"Do you mean you think she's the same Kyra Zelas we had at the hospital?" gasped Scott.
"I don't know. I don't know anything, but if I ever touch that damned serum of yours—Look! Look, Dan!" This last was a tense whisper.
"What?"
"Her hair! When the sun strikes it!"
Scott peered more closely. A vagrant ray of noon sunlight filtered through a high window, and now and again the swaying of a shade permitted it to touch the metallic radiance of the girl's hair. Scott stared and saw; slightly but unmistakable, whenever the light touched that glowing aureole, her hair darkened from bright aluminum to golden blond!
Something clicke
