never looked once towards him, but were
fixed upon a large bag, whose yawning mouth was still open and propped
up beside his desk.

"Where is the through money letter that came in that bag?" she said
quickly.

"What--do--you--mean?" he stammered, with a face that had suddenly grown
whiter than her own.

"I mean that it's a DECOY, checked at Heavy Tree Crossing, and that Mr.
Home, of San Francisco, is now waiting at my office to know if you have
taken it!"

The laugh and lie that he had at first tried to summon to mouth and lips
never reached them. For, under the spell of her rigid, truthful face, he
turned almost mechanically to his desk, and took out a package.

"Good God! you've opened it already!" she cried, pointing to the broken
seal.

The expression on her face, more than anything she had said, convinced
him that she knew all. He stammered under the new alarm that her
despairing tone suggested. "Yes!--I was owing some bills--the collector
was waiting here for the money, and I took something from the packet.
But I was going to make it up by next mail--I swear it."

"How much have you taken?"

"Only a trifle. I"--

"How much?"

"A hundred dollars!"

She dragged the money she had brought from Laurel Run from her pocket,
and counting out the sum, replaced it in the open package. He ran
quickly to get the sealing wax, but she motioned him away as she dropped
the package back into the mail-bag. "No; as long as the money is found
in the bag the package may have been broken ACCIDENTALLY. Now burst open
one or two of those other packages a little--so;" she took out a packet
of letters and bruised their official wrappings under her little foot
until the tape fastening was loosened. "Now give me something heavy."
She caught up a brass two-pound weight, and in the same feverish
but collected haste wrapped it in paper, sealed it, stamped it, and,
addressing it in a large printed hand to herself at Laurel Hill, dropped
it in the bag. Then she closed it and locked it; he would have assisted
her, but she again waved him away. "Send for the expressman, and keep
yourself out of the way for a moment," she said curtly.

An attitude of weak admiration and foolish passion had taken the place
of his former tremulous fear. He obeyed excitedly, but without a word.
Mrs. Baker wiped her moist forehead and parched lips, and shook out
her skirt. Well might the young expressman start at the unexpected
revelation of those spark