money in it," I said.

"No, there ain't," he answered, feeling of the envelope. "I guess I can
tell!"

"Hold it up to the light, then," said I, for the sun was shining very
bright. "We'll see who is right."

He did this, and the writing was as plain as if written on the outside.
It was her own hand, too, though it was not signed.

"She must have some more," it said.

"Where does the man with the gold teeth live?" I asked, trying to smile
and look careless.

"I shan't say!" said the boy. "There is some funny business here. Let go
of me!"

He twisted himself away and ran off, looking over his shoulder to see if
I was following him.

I went back to the house then, and it was when I was in my room that I
heard the telephone bell and Mrs. Estabrook's soft voice talking very
low. I crept out and hung over the stair rail trying to listen. Any one
could tell in a second that the poor girl was in fright.

"Who was it?" she asked. "Did they learn anything from the boy? How long
ago?"

There was a pause.

"Can't you see how terrible it would be if any one knew about her?" she
said. "Do you believe she is being watched? You do! Detectives! I can't
talk any more--good-bye!"

That was what she said and for a week afterward she was walking through
the house, up and down each room, like a creature in a cage, listening
for every sound and nursing her head with her hands as if she were
afraid it would burst. She would sit down in a chair and then jump up
again, as if the place she had chosen to rest was red-hot. Every moment
she was with her husband she seemed to be holding herself in check, as
if he might read some terrible thing in her eyes. Then, all of a sudden,
she would get some message from outside and she would be peaceful again
and sigh and fold her beautiful hands.

You can see well enough that I was ready for something queer. But when
it came, it was so unaccountable that I could scarcely believe I wasn't
living in a dream. It was late one afternoon when I came down from my
room and found her talking through the crack of the front door to
somebody outside in the vestibule. I could hear the whisper of voices
and I thought the other person was a man. I can be sly when I want to,
so I did not go forward at all, but crept back and along the upper hall
to the window. After a minute or two I heard the door close and somebody
going down the steps. I had raised the screen already so that I could
lean out to see who i