very
fond. But I can venture, without consulting her, to send you her
good wishes. Let me hear from you in full about what I have written.
Your friend.

"BEVERLY WEEMS."

"P.S.--Knowing that you must yet be weak with your late illness, I
would have troubled Harold, rather than you, about this matter, but
I am ignorant of his present whereabouts, while I know that you
contemplated remaining a week or so in New York. Write me about the
ugly bite in the shoulder, from which I trust you are well
recovered. B.W."

Arthur looked up from the letter, and beheld Philip Searle seated at the
opposite side of the table. He had entered while Arthur's attention was
absorbed in reading, and having glanced at the address of the envelope
which lay upon the table, he recognized the hand of Beverly. This
prompted him to pause, and taking up one of the newspapers which were
strewn about the table, he sat down, and while he appeared to read,
glanced furtively at his _vis-a-vis_ over the paper's edge. When his
presence was noticed, he bowed, and Arthur, with a slight and stern
inclination of the head, fixed his calm eye upon him with a searching
severity that brought a flush of anger to Philip's brow.

"That is Weems' hand," he muttered, inwardly, "and by that fellow's
look, I fancy that no less a person than myself is the subject of his
epistle."

Arthur had walked away, but, in his surprise at the unexpected presence
of Searle, he had allowed the letter to remain upon the table. No sooner
had he passed out of the room, than Philip quietly but rapidly stretched
his hand beneath the pile of scattered journals, and drew it toward him.
It required but an instant for his quick eye to catch the substance. His
face grew livid, and his teeth grated harshly with suppressed rage.

"We shall have a game of plot and counterplot before this ends, my
man," he muttered.

There were pen and paper on the table, and he wrote a few lines hastily,
placed them in the envelope, and put Beverly's letter in his pocket. He
had hardly finished when Arthur reentered the room, advanced rapidly to
the table, and, with a look of relief, took up the envelope and its
contents, and again left the room. Philip's lip curled beneath the black
moustache with a smile of triumphant malice.

"Keep it safe in your pocket for a few hours, my gamecock, and my
heiress to a beggar-girl, I'll have stone walls between you and me."