ear to me that both Ferris and Braun used this poor office
boy as a spy on Clayton; only, for different purposes.

"As for the two women, they were both mere puppets! Fritz Braun
was tempted by the unprotected situation of that vast sum of money
going daily to the bank. He easily learned that from the boy's
braggadocio talk, and then used the whole circle as a means to entrap
Clayton. As for the women, they are both merely what temptation,
misery, and surroundings have made them. I'm glad to hear Doctor
Atwater say Miss Worthington has some plans for their future.

"As for the boy, your own design is a wise one. Transport him
out West, give him a fair start in some Pacific State in a decent
business, and then if he goes wrong, after his severe lesson, let
him run up against a smart punishment."

Reluctantly convinced, John Witherspoon dropped all his final
investigations as to Arthur Ferris' secret career in New York City.
As the months rolled along he saw the justice of the blunt police
officer's judgment, for Miss Alice Worthington seemed to be an
administering talent of the highest order.

"She would make a Secretary of the Treasury, sir," said the admiring
Stillwell. "She is old beyond her years--a rare woman!"

By some vague influence, the personal future designs of Miss
Worthington seemed to be a subject tabooed between Witherspoon,
his wife, and Doctor Atwater, at the regular weekly dinner at
Beechwood, where the young physician was always a stated guest.

Miss Worthington, already a Lady Bountiful, in Detroit, conducted
a separate correspondence with the young wife, the husband, and
the physician, the last her only confidant in the still unmatured
plans of a practical philanthropy.

It was in the early autumn of the year following Randall Clayton's
death that Witherspoon sprang up in astonishment, when he unfolded
the New York Herald over his morning coffee at Beechwood.

The cabled announcement of the death of the Honorable Arthur Ferris,
United States Consul at Amoy, China, was only supplemented by the
statement that he had fallen a victim of the coast fever.

"This is the end of all," sadly mused the lawyer, as he saw his
immediate duty of repeating the news by telegraph to Detroit.

"Whatever connection Ferris had with the secret designs of Worthington
is now a sealed mystery forever; the hand of Death has turned the
last page down."

Witherspoon rightly conjectured that to Senator D