claimed, clapping her hands.

"Thank you," he said, bowing. Then he added: "Let me see--this paper
won't do. Where can we get some fool's-cap?"

"There must be some in the library," she answered. "I'll slip down and
see."

She hastened down-stairs and soon returned with the paper. "I feel
like a burglar," she said.

"And I _am_ a forger," he replied.

"Won't take you long, will it?"

"No."

The work was soon completed. The scorched letters were thrown into the
fire. "She will never know the difference," said Ellen. "It is a sin
to deceive her, but then, following the burglary, deception is a
kindness; and there can't be so very much wickedness in a sin that
keeps one from being unhappy."

"Or keeps one from being discovered," he suggested. She laughed, not
mirthfully, but with an attempt at self-consolation. "This is our
first secret," she said, as she opened the door.

"And I think you will keep it," he replied, smiling at her.

She looked at him for a moment and rejoined: "Indeed, fellow-criminal!
And if you didn't smoke that horrid pipe, what a lovable convict you
would make."

When she was gone he stood again at the window. The night was
breathing hard. He spoke to himself with mock concern: "Two hours ago
you were simply a fool, but now you are a scoundrel."

CHAPTER XV.

TOLD HIM HER STORY.

When he awoke the next morning his blood seemed to be clogged
somewhere far from the seat of thought, and then it came with a leap
that brought back the night before. "But I won't argue with you," he
said, turning over. "Argue," he repeated. "Why, it's past argument
now. I will simply do the best I can and let the worst take care of
itself. But I do despise a vacillator, and I am one. The old man maybe
right. Nature admires strength and never pities the weak. And what am
I to do if I'm not to carry out my part of this programme? The trial
is over," he said as he got up. "I am Henry Witherspoon."

He was busy in his room at the office when Brooks entered.

"Well, hard at it, I see."

"Yes. Sit down; I'll be through with this in a moment."

He sat himself back from the desk, and Brooks asked, "Can't you go out
to lunch with me?"

"Isn't time yet."

"Hardly, that's so," Brooks admitted, looking at his watch. "I
happened to have business in this neighborhood and thought I'd drop
in. Say," he added in a lower tone, and nodding his head toward the
door of the adjoining room, "who is she?"

"The