d Voles. Voles
was an associate of Rachel Craik, the woman who poses as Winifred's
aunt. That is the line of inquiry. Do you know anything about it?"

"Not a syllable."

"Then I must appeal to Ronald."

"Do so. He is as much in the dark as I am."

"I fancy you are speaking the truth, Helen."

"Is it manly to come here and insult me?"

"Was it womanly to place these hounds on the track of my poor Winifred?
I shall spare no one, Helen. Be warned in time. If you can help me, do
so. I may have pity on my friends, I shall have none for my enemies."

He was gone. Mrs. Tower, biting her lips and clenching her hands in
sheer rage, rushed to an escritoire and unlocked it. A letter lay there,
a letter from Meiklejohn. It was dated from the Marlborough-Blenheim
Hotel, Atlantic City.

"Dear Mrs. Tower," it ran, "the Costa Rica cotton concession is
almost secure. The President will sign it any day now. But
secrecy is more than ever important. Tell none but Jacob. The
market must be kept in the dark. He can begin operations
quietly. The shares should be at par within a week, and at five
in a month. Wire me the one word 'settled' when Jacob says he
is ready."

"At five in a month!"

Mrs. Tower was promised ten thousand of those shares. Their nominal
value was one dollar. To-day they stood at a few cents. Fifty thousand
dollars! What a relief it would be! Threatening dressmakers, impudent
racing agents asking for unpaid bets, sneering friends who held her
I. O. U.'s for bridge losses, and spoke of asking her husband to settle;
all these paid triumphantly, and plenty in hand to battle in the
whirlpool for years--it was a stake worth fighting for.

And Meiklejohn? As the price of his help in gaining a concession granted
by a new competitor among the cotton-producing States, he would be given
five shares to her one. Why did he dread this girl? That was a fruitful
affair to probe. But he must be warned. Her lost lover might be
troublesome at a critical stage in the affairs of the cotton market.

She wrote a telegram: "Settled, but await letter." In the letter she
gave him some details--not all--of Carshaw's visit. No woman will ever
reveal that she has been discarded by a man whom she boasted was tied to
her hat-strings.

Carshaw sought the detective bureau, but Steingall was away now, as well
as Clancy. "You'll be hearing from one of them" was the enigmatic
message he was given.

Eating his h