Chapter 12 - Page 2

which naturally belongs to me?"

The man's face deepened into a mahogany brown, and he shifted his cap uneasily in his hands.

"Madam, I am not acting for myself. I am Secretary of the Russian Liberation Society. They, through their branch at St. Petersburg, have conducted some investigations on your behalf."

"Yes, for which I paid them very well."

Johnson bowed.

"Our object, Madam, is the repression of tyranny. For that we are in continual need of money. It is the poor, and not the millionaires, who subscribe to our fund. It has been discovered that you are a rich woman, who will never miss the money asked, and so the demand was made. Believe me, Madam, I am acting by the command of my comrades. I tried to persuade them to leave compensation to your own generosity, but they refused. If you consider their demand unreasonable, you have but to say so, and I will return and tell them your decision."

"Have you brought the letter with you?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Must I agree to your terms before seeing it?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Have you read it?"

"Yes, Madam."

"Do you think it worth ten thousand dollars?"

The sailor looked up at the decorated ceiling for several moments before he replied.

"That is a question I cannot answer," he said at last. "It all depends on what you think of the writer."

"Answer one more question. By whom is the letter signed?"

"There is no signature, Madam. It was found in the house where the two young men lived. Our people searched the house from top to bottom surreptitiously, and they think the writer was arrested before he had finished the letter. There is no address, and nothing to show for whom it is intended, except the phrase beginning, 'My dearest Dorothy.'"

The girl leaned back in her chair, and drew a long breath. "It is not for me," she said, hastily; then bending forward, she cried suddenly:

"I agree to your terms: give it to me."

The man hesitated, fumbling in his inside pocket.

"I was to get your promise in writing," he demurred.

"Give it to me, give it to me," she demanded. "I do not break my word."

He handed her the letter.

"My dearest Dorothy," she read, in writing well known to her. "You may judge my exalted state of mind when you see that I dare venture on such a beginning. I have been worrying myself and other people all to no purpose. I have received a letter from Jack this morning, and so suspicious had I grown that for a few moments I suspected the writing was but an imitation of his. He is a very impulsive fellow, and can think of only one thing at a time, which