Southern darkey, his hair
whitened by age.

"Well, uncle, what can I do for you?" It was Mark who spoke.

"Well, sah, seein' as how I found a lettah addressed to you--"

"A letter?"

"Yes, sah." The old darkey was fumbling with his hat, trying to
withdraw the letter he had put away so carefully.

"I found it down the street, sah, neah one of them thar big for'n
houses."

"Where?" The word was almost shouted as Mark jumped to his feet.

But the trembling fingers had at last grasped and now held forth the
precious letter. Mark tore it open, and with a cry of glad surprise
began to devour its contents. When he had finished, he handed the
letter to Father Murray without a word, and turned to the darkey.

"Thank you, uncle. I am very glad you brought it."

"Yes, sah. I thought as how you might want to get it, seein' as how it
was a pretty young lady that threw it out."

"You saw her?"

"Yes, sah. I was right across the street, and she suah is pretty,
sah." The old man smiled and bowed as Mark gave him a bill. "Thank
you, sah; thank you, sah." And with a broad grin he left the room.

Father Murray was still reading the letter and Mark motioned to
Saunders to come to his side. Looking over the priest's shoulder, Mark
read the lines again:

"My Dear Mark: His Excellency isn't a very good housekeeper; I have
found an envelope in one of the books, and a tiny slip of blue-corded
pencil in the drawer of my dressing-table. I should like to pension
the man who first put fly-leaves in a book. Fortunately, my maid isn't
with me much, and the man in the yard can't see my front window because
of the tree. So I have only to listen to the guard in the next room.
He is always walking up and down, and when he reaches the uncarpeted
space near the door I know he is at the end and ready to turn back.
For that one second I can chance throwing this letter out into the
street. I shall load it with a cut-glass ball I found on my desk. It
is a beautiful little paper-weight, but its beauty won't save it this
time. Someone will surely take the letter to you. Where to find you
is my worry. But I know that the signal flashes could only mean that
you are in the city, so I am risking the New Willard.

"A warship has been sent to take the Grand Duchess home. I cannot
convince them that I am only Ruth Atheson. I am sure they are going to
send me away. You must get me out of this house quickly, or it will be
too l