have not!" and drove away.

Concealing my nervousness as best I could, I entered the doomed
Building. There was only a hall boy there, asleep in the elevator, and
I looked at the thing with the names on it. "Mr. Grosvenor" was on the
fourth floor.

I wakened the boy, and he yawned and took me to the fourth floor. My
hands were stiff with nervousness by that time, but the boy was half
asleep, and evadently he took me for some one who belonged there, for
he said "Goodnight" to me, and went on down. There was a square landing
with two doors, and "Grosvenor" was on one. I tried it gently. It was
unlocked.

"FACILUS DESCENSUS IN AVERNU."

I am not defending myself. What I did was the result of desparation.
But I cannot even write of my sensations as I stepped through that fatal
portal, without a sinking of the heart. I had, however, had suficient
forsight to prepare an alabi. In case there was some one present in the
apartment I intended to tell a falshood, I regret to confess, and to say
that I had got off at the wrong floor.

There was a sort of hall, with a clock and a table, and a shaded
electric lamp, and beyond that the door was open into a sitting room.

There was a small light burning there, and the remains of a wood fire in
the fireplace. There was no Cabinet however.

Everything was perfectly quiet, and I went over to the fire and warmed
my hands. My nails were quite blue, but I was strangly calm. I took off
mother's veil, and my mackintosh, so I would be free to work, and I then
looked around the room. There were a number of photographs of rather
smart looking girls, and I curled my lip scornfully. He might have
fooled them but he could not decieve me. And it added to my bitterness
to think that at that moment the villain was dancing--and flirting
probably--while I was driven to actual theft to secure the Letter that
placed me in his power.

When I had stopped shivering I went to his desk. There were a lot of
letters on the top, all addressed to him as Grosvenor. It struck me
suddenly as strange that if he was only visiting, under an assumed name,
in order to see me, that so many people should be writing to him as Mr.
Grosvenor. And it did not look like the room of a man who was visiting,
unless he took a freight car with him on his travels.

THERE WAS A MYSTERY. All at once I knew it.

My letter was not on the desk, so I opened the top drawer. It seemed to
be full of bills, and so was the one below it