your mother would be hopelessly estranged, or at least that
you would so hurt and distress her that they could gloat over her
unhappiness. You know you are the one thing she loves in all the world,
Dorothy."

He had talked looking straight ahead of him, striving to give his words
judicial weight. Now he glanced down at Dorothy's face. It was calm, and
a little color was returning to her cheeks. She pressed his hand
fervently.

"But it's so wicked!" she repeated. "It frightens me to think of such
viciousness so near to us, and we don't know and can't guess who it is."

"We'll find a clew. I'll have detectives to watch the house, and to
trace the messenger who brought that letter, if possible. Say nothing to
anyone, not even to Tante Lydia. Perhaps it would be best not to worry
your mother at all about it. She's not well, you see. In the meantime,
I'm going to take everything out of the safe, and transfer it to my own.
I'll make a list. Then we'll change the combination."

"Oh, I wish I'd come to you the very first minute," sighed Dorothy.
"You're such a tower of strength, and you make everything so easy and
simple. I'm ashamed of my fright, and my crying like a baby. You are so
good to me--I--I just love you."

For a second she rested her head on his shoulder with an abandon of
childlike confidence, and his heart thrilled. His inner consciousness,
however, warned him that a deeper motive than his desire to save Dorothy
actuated him--he must shield the mother from the danger that had
threatened the one vulnerable point in her armor of indifference, the
love and respect of her child.

At the apartment, inquiry for Aunt Lydia elicited the information that
the lady had that moment left in company with Miss Gard, and the two
conspirators proceeded alone to the library.

Gard closed the door, drew the heavy leather curtain, and turned
questioningly to Dorothy. With slow, reluctant movements she approached
the wall, released the panel and exposed the front of the safe. With
inexpert fingers, she set the combination and pulled back the door.

"Where is the spring?" demanded Gard. He could not bear to have her
touch what might lie behind the second partition. "Here, dear, take out
these jewel cases and see if they are all right." He swept the velvet
and morocco boxes into her hands, and felt better as he heard their
clattering fall upon the table. He paused, listening for an instant to
the beating of his own heart. He pr