d got their confessions, and if your scruples and
remorse kept you awake nights afterward, you certainly didn't show any
effect of it. What difference does it make in this case?"

"Just this difference, Mr. Blaine"--Morrow's words came with a rush,
as if he was glad, now that the issue had been raised, to meet it
squarely--"I love Emily Brunell. Whatever her father is, or has done,
she is guiltless of any complicity, and I can't stand by and see her
suffer, much less be the one to precipitate her grief by bringing her
father to justice. I told you the truth when I said that the cipher
letter was an enigma to me. I could not solve the cryptogram, nor will
I be the means of bringing it to the hands of those who might solve
it. I don't want any further connection with the case; in fact, sir, I
want to get out of the sleuth game altogether. It's a dirty business,
at best, and it leaves a bad taste in one's mouth, and many a black
spot in one's memory. I realize how petty and sordid and treacherous
and generally despicable the whole game is, and I'm through!"

"Through?" Henry Blaine smiled his quiet, slow, illuminating smile,
and walking around the table, laid his hand on Morrow's shoulder.
"Why, boy, you haven't even commenced. Detective work is 'petty,' you
said? 'Petty' because we take every case, no matter how insignificant,
if it can right a wrong? You call our profession 'sordid,' because we
accept pay for the work of our brains and bodies! Why should we not?
Are we treacherous, because we meet malefactors, and fight them with
their own weapons? And what is there that is 'generally despicable'
about a calling which betters mankind, which protects the innocent,
and brings the guilty to justice?"

Morrow shook his head slowly, as if incapable of speech, but it was
evident that he was listening, and Blaine, after a moment's pause,
followed up his advantage.

"You say that you love Miss Brunell, Guy, and because of that, you
will have nothing further to do with an investigation which points
primarily to her father as an accomplice in the crime. Do you realize
that if you throw over the case now, I shall be compelled to put
another operative on the trail, with all the information at his
disposal which you have detailed to me? You may be sure the man I have
in mind will have no sentimental scruples against pushing the matter
to the end, without regard for the cost to either Jimmy Brunell or
his daughter. Naturally, bein