had been killed,
there was a chance that you had survived. I've not been of much account,
but I didn't want a man to swing because I'd left him in my place.
Besides, I began to have a theory of my own.

"As we entered the car a tall, dark woman passed us, with a glass of
water in her hand, and I vaguely remembered her. She was amazingly like
Blanche Conway.

"If she, too, thought the man with the notes was in lower ten, it
explained a lot, including that piece of a woman's necklace. She was a
fury, Blanche Conway, capable of anything."

"Then why did you countermand that message?" I asked curiously.

"When I got to the Carter house, and got to bed--I had sprained my ankle
in the jump--I went through the alligator bag I had taken from lower
nine. When I found your name, I sent the first message. Then, soon
after, I came across the notes. It seemed too good to be true, and I was
crazy for fear the message had gone.

"At first I was going to send them to Bronson; then I began to see what
the possession of the notes meant to me. It meant power over Bronson,
money, influence, everything. He was a devil, that man."

"Well, he's at home now," said McKnight, and we were glad to laugh and
relieve the tension.

Alison put her hand over her eyes, as if to shut out the sight of the
man she had so nearly married, and I furtively touched one of the soft
little curls that nestled at the back of her neck.

"When I was able to walk," went on the sullen voice, "I came at once to
Washington. I tried to sell the notes to Bronson, but he was almost at
the end of his rope. Not even my threat to send them back to you, Mr.
Blakeley, could make him meet my figure. He didn't have the money."

McKnight was triumphant.

"I think you gentlemen will see reason in my theory now," he said. "Mrs.
Conway wanted the notes to force a legal marriage, I suppose?"

"Yes."

The detective with the small package carefully rolled off the rubber
band, and unwrapped it. I held my breath as he took out, first, the
Russia leather wallet.

"These things, Mr. Blakeley, we found in the seal-skin bag Mr. Sullivan
says he left you. This wallet, Mr. Sullivan--is this the one you found
on the floor of the car?"

Sullivan opened it, and, glancing at the name inside, "Simon
Harrington," nodded affirmatively.

"And this," went on the detective--"this is a piece of gold chain?"

"It seems to be," said Sullivan, recoiling at the blood-stained end.

"This,