?" He laughed, but it was laughter that had nothing
human in it. "Madam, when I die my deposit box at the bank will be
turned over to you. In it you will find six anonymous letters. They
have lain there sixteen years. I took the advice of one and followed
you. So I let them believe that I had married you for your money. I
meant to have my revenge after I was dead. Madam, you will go to
Europe. I shall not be home to lunch, but you may expect me at dinner.
I am curious to learn whether it will be in Egypt and the Holy Land,
or Italy, the land of the fig-tree and the vine. Good morning."

When he was gone, Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene realized, for the first time
in sixteen years, that she had married a man. Suddenly her knees gave
from under her, and she sank into her chair, staring at the floor with
unseeing eyes. For sixteen years!

That afternoon Warrington had a visit. His visitors were Jordan, the
reporter, and Osborne. They appeared to be in high spirits.

"We've got him, Dick!" exclaimed Jordan, swinging his hat.

"Got whom?"

"Morrissy--Morrissy and McQuade," said Osborne, in his
whisky-roughened voice. "We've got 'em all right, Dick. Look at this,"
tossing a wrinkled sheet of carbon-paper on Warrington's desk.

Warrington spread it out. It took him but a minute to find out the
richness of his possession.

"Where did you come across this?" he asked eagerly.

"My niece found it in her waste-basket. I've sent her into the country
to visit relatives," said Osborne. "But if you use it, Dick, you'll
have to find the girl another job in some other town."

"You leave that to me. This is worth a thousand to me and a thousand
more to John Bennington. Now, both of you go down to any restaurant in
town and order what you like, and as long as you like, and you have
them call me up if there's any question."

The reporter and the semi-outcast smiled at each other. They saw their
appetites appeased to satiety.

"Does a bottle go with the order, Dick?" asked Jordan.

"Half a dozen!" laughed Warrington.

"I've put you in the City Hall, Dick," said Osborne. "And don't forget
me when you're there."

"Will there be a story for me?" Jordan asked.

"You'll have a page, Ben."

"That's enough. Well, come on, Bill; we'll show the new mayor that we
can order like gentlemen."

"I remember--" But Osborne never completed his reminiscence. Jordan
was already propelling him toward the door.

Once the door had closed upon them