inued his statement.

"I overheard Colonel McIntyre tell Judge Hildebrand about his securities
and their present value, and the next day he came to consult the judge
about engaging a secretary. I fixed up credentials and went to Mr.
Turnbull; he believed my story that I was the colonel's new secretary
and got the securities." Sylvester paused. "If I'd rested content with
that success I'd been all right," he added. "But I was in too great a
hurry and forged Mr. Clymer's signature to a check for five thousand
dollars and presented it at the Metropolis Trust Company. As luck would
have it Mr. Turnbull cashed it for me himself."

"But didn't he suspect you?" exclaimed Clymer. He had gradually
recovered from the shock of Rochester's charges on his arrival, and was
listening with keen attention to Sylvester's confession.

"No. I made the check payable to Colonel McIntyre and forged his
endorsement," Sylvester spoke with an air of pride, and he smiled
in malicious enjoyment as, catching his eye, Barbara shrank back and
sheltered herself behind Kent. "Mr. Turnbull accepted the check;
later something must have aroused his suspicions, and I found when he
questioned me that he believed Colonel McIntyre had forged the check."

"Good heavens! You let him think that?" gasped McIntyre; then wrath
gained the mastery. "You scoundrel!"

"Oh, I encouraged him to think it," Sylvester grinned again. "You must
have handed Mr. Turnbull a raw deal; he was so ready to think evil of
you."

"That is a lie!" exclaimed Helen hotly. "When I went downstairs to
investigate the noise I heard in the library, father, Jimmie told me
who he was to quiet my fright. He showed me a letter, which he had just
found on your desk in the library, confessing that you had forged Mr.
Clymer's name on the check, and begging Jimmie to conceal your crime and
save Barbara and me from the shame of having you exposed as a forger and
a thief."

"I never wrote such a letter!" shouted McIntyre, deeply incensed.

"No, it was a clever plan," acknowledged Sylvester. "On one of my trips
to your house, Colonel McIntyre, I secured wax impressions of your front
door lock. I went to your house Monday night and put the letter among
your papers just before Turnbull was admitted by your fool of a butler."

"And you gave Jimmie Turnbull a dose of poison--charged Kent, but
Sylvester, his lips gone dry, raised his manacled hands in protest.

"I did not poison him," he cried. "I