residence address, using his keys, they had learned everything
necessary for the completion of their plans. A copy of the Judge's
will must have been in Henley's possession, and, no doubt, some
lawyer's letter, describing the situation, received since the departure
of his wife. Apparently everything two clever crooks needed to know
was in their possession. All they needed to do was pull the strings,
using a figurehead to represent Philip Henley. That was the part for
which I was chosen. They had to construct a lie in order to interest
me, yet that was comparatively easy, and there was a strong probability
of success but for peculiar conditions of which they could know
nothing. The half-breed had never been mentioned; he was the monkey
wrench thrown unexpectedly into their well-oiled machine. Yet, even
without him, the reappearance of Philip Henley's wife was sufficient to
cause disaster.

Philip Henley's wife! The magic of the words halted me. Then now, if
all I had learned was true, she was his widow. What would that mean to
me! The swift beating of my heart answered. As I sat there alone, in
the silence I forgot everything save her, and my mind dwelt upon every
word and look which had passed between us. These had been innocent
enough, and yet, to my imagination, stimulated by this discovery,
formed the basis of a dream of hope. I knew this, that however
sincerely she might have once supposed she loved Henley, his neglect,
cruelty, dissipation, had long ago driven all sentiment from her.
Before we met, her girlhood affection had been utterly crushed and
destroyed. Loyal, she was, and true to every tradition of her
womanhood. No audacity, no boldness, could penetrate her reserve, or
lower her self-respect. Before I knew who she was, when I had every
reason to doubt and to question, I was still restrained by an invisible
personality which kept me helpless. It was to guard his interest, not
her own, that she had accompanied me on this expedition, risking her
good name in the belief that he was unable to care for his own. What
would she do now? how would she feel toward me? What change would it
make in the friendly relationship between us? I longed to tell her,
and yet shrunk from the task. She could not fail to know how much I
cared; careful as I had been in word and action, yet a dozen times had
my eyes revealed the secret. I had seen her draw back from me, half
afraid, had her restrain me by a ge