hrough illness to
leave the management of the railway's affairs to his vice-president,
Hayden. Late yesterday the old man heard of this proposed bribe--on his
sick bed. He was very nearly insane at the thought of the disgrace it
would bring upon him. He tried to rise himself and prevent the passing
of the package. His daughter--a brave loyal girl--herself undertook the
task."

"Then," said Mr. Magee, "Miss Thornhill is not distressed at the loss of
the most important evidence in the case."

"I have explained the matter to her," returned Professor Bolton. "There
is no chance whatever that her father's name will be implicated. Both
Drayton and myself have the highest regard for his integrity. The whole
affair was arranged when he was too ill to dream of it. His good name
will be smirched in no way. The only man involved on the giver's side is
dead in the room above. The man we are after now is Cargan. Miss
Thornhill has agreed that it is best to prosecute. That eliminates her."

"Did Miss Thornhill and Kendrick meet for the first time, after his
exile, up-stairs--in number seven?" Mr. Magee wanted to know.

"Yes," answered Professor Bolton. "In one of his letters long ago Hayden
told Kendrick he was engaged to the girl. It was the last letter
Kendrick received from him."

There was a pause.

"The important point now," the old man went on, "is the identity of this
girl to whom you have made your princely gift, out of the goodness of
your young heart. I propose to speak to the woman she has introduced as
her mother, and elicit what information I can."

He crossed the floor, followed by Mr. Magee, and stood by the woman's
chair. She looked up, her eyes heavy with sleep, her appearance more
tawdry than ever in that faint light.

"Madam," remarked the professor, with the air of a judge trying a case,
"your daughter has to-night made her escape from this place with a large
sum of money earnestly desired by the prosecuting attorney of Reuton
county. In the name of the law, I command you to tell me her
destination, and what she proposes to do with that package of
greenbacks."

The woman blinked stupidly in the dusk.

"She ain't my daughter," she replied, and Mr. Magee's heart leaped up.
"I can tell you that much. I keep a boarding-house in Reuton and
Miss--the girl you speak about--has been my boarder for three years. She
brought me up here as a sort of chaperon, though I don't see as I'm old
enough for that yet. You