train."

The few lines traced by Arthur Ferris' feeble fingers were supplemented
by a long and formal letter from the United States Vice-Consul at
Amoy.

The enclosure of a verified copy of the will of Arthur Ferris,
duly attested by the consular seal, was accompanied by a statement
that the original and the keys of Ferris' safe deposit box in New
York had been duly forwarded to New York, through the Hong Kong
and Shanghai Bank.

There was a sealed enclosure directed to Miss Alice Worthington,
the superscription being faintly discernable in the trembling hand
of the fever patient.

And as both men gazed silently at each other, they knew that some
dark secret lay veiled there under the outspread wings of the American
eagle of the consular seal, which duplicated Ferris' private signet.

With a strange interest, Atwater read of the last sufferings of
the unfortunate official. "My late superior seemed to be tortured
in his mind to his very last moment," wrote the Vice-Consul, "by
the fear that these documents might not safely reach Miss Worthington
through you.

"Be pleased to give me the earliest possible acknowledgment of the
receipt of both the certified copy herewith sent and the original
with the keys and duly certified order for the delivery of the tin
box of the deceased to Miss Worthington herself."

"Here we dismiss his memory forever between us!" solemnly said
Witherspoon, as he read aloud Arthur Ferris' last message. "It is
for her alone to bear him in mind, and to sit in judgment upon him!
What unrighted wrong drove him, in remorse, to his lonely grave!
I shall never ask an answer of her!"

In vain did Atwater follow the enigmatic sentences.

"I leave the fund of one hundred thousand dollars, created for
me by my uncle, and the similar sum now due and payable by the
Worthington Estate, to Alice Worthington for the foundation of
such a charity as she may deem proper. This money is the legacy of
a crime and of a wrong!

"Of a crime, though only contemplated, of which I am not innocent
at heart, and of a wrong done, of which Miss Worthington alone
shall be the judge.

"To you, Witherspoon, I can say that every mad scheme which I framed
to reach wealth and power has failed miserably; that I have found
my soul's unhappiness in the betrayal of poor Clayton's friendship.

"And yet, as I hope for the forgiveness of an Almighty God, I
knew nothing of his murder, either in the deed or its conce