zes of speculation. It was
the torn leaf from a book that was worthless without the context; a
piece of valuable evidence, but inadmissible unless supported and
illuminated by other testimony.

[Illustration: SYLVIA MUST KNOW JUST WHAT WE KNOW]

Sylvia had been singularly silent, and Mrs. Owen's keen eyes saw that
something was amiss. She stopped talking, as much as to say, "Now, if
you young folks have anything troubling you, now's your time to come out
with it."

An old clock on the stair landing boomed ten. Mrs. Owen stirred
restlessly. Sylvia, sitting in a low chair by the fire, clasped her
hands abruptly, clenched them hard, and spoke, turning her head slowly
until her eyes rested upon Dan.

"Dan," she asked, "did you ever know--do you know now--what was in the
letter you carried to Grandfather Kelton that first time I saw you--the
time I went to find grandfather for you?"

Dan glanced quickly at Mrs. Owen.

"Answer Sylvia's question, Daniel," the old lady replied.

"Yes; I learned later what it was. And Aunt Sally knows."

"Tell me; tell me what you know about it," commanded Sylvia gravely, and
her voice was clear now.

Dan hesitated. He rose and stood with his arm resting on the mantel.

"It's all right, Daniel. Now that Sylvia has asked, she must know just
what we know," said Mrs. Owen.

"The letter was among your grandfather's papers. It was an offer to pay
for your education. It was an unsigned letter."

"But you know who wrote it?" asked Sylvia, not lifting her head.

"No; I don't know that," he replied earnestly; "we haven't the slightest
idea."

"But how did you come to be the messenger? Who gave you the letter?" she
persisted quietly.

"Daniel never told me that, Sylvia. But if you want to know, he must
tell you. It might be better for you not to know; you must consider
that. It can make no difference now of any kind."

"It may make a difference," said Sylvia brokenly, not lifting her head;
"it may make a great deal of difference. That's why I speak of it;
that's why I must know!"

"Go on, Daniel; answer Sylvia's question."

"Mr. Fitch gave it to me. It had been entrusted to him for delivery by a
personal friend or a client: I never knew. He assured me that he had no
idea what the letter contained; but he knew of course where it came
from. He chose me for the errand, I suppose, because I was a new man in
the office, and a comparative stranger in town. I remember that he asked
me if