regretting even the passive part he was taking in her imprisonment.

On the very Sunday evening that Voles and Fowle were concocting their
vile and mysterious scheme, Mick the Wolf, their trusted associate,
partner of Voles in many a desperate enterprise in other lands, was
sitting in an armchair up-stairs listening to Winifred reading from a
book she had found in her bedroom. It was some simple story of love and
adventure, and certainly its author had never dreamed that his exciting
situations would be perused under conditions as dramatic as any pictured
in the novel.

"It's a queer thing," said the man after a pause, when Winifred stopped
to light a lamp, "but nobody pipin' us just now 'ud think we was what we
are."

She laughed at the involved sentence. "I don't think you are half so bad
as you think you are, Mr. Grey," she said softly. "For my part, I am
happy in the belief that my friends will not desert me."

"Lookut here," he said with gruff sympathy, "why don't you pull with
your people instead of ag'in' 'em. I know what I'm talkin' about. This
yer Voles--but, steady! Mebbe I best shut up."

Winifred's heart bounded. If this man would speak he might tell her
something of great value to her lover and Mr. Steingall when they came
to reckon up accounts with her persecutors.

"Anything you tell me, Mr. Grey, shall not be repeated," she said.

He glanced toward the door. She understood his thought. Rachel Craik was
preparing their evening meal. She might enter the room at any moment,
and it was not advisable that she should suspect them of amicable
relations. Assuredly, up to that hour, Mick the Wolf's manner admitted
of no doubt on the point. He had been intractable as the animal which
supplied his oddly appropriate nickname.

"It's this way," he went on in a lower tone. "Voles an' Meiklejohn are
brothers born. Meiklejohn, bein' a Senator, an' well in with some of the
top-notchers, has a cotton concession in Costa Rica which means a pile
of money. Voles is cute as a pet fox. He winded the turkey, an' has
forced his brother to make him manager, with a whackin' salary and an
interest. I'm in on the deal, too. Bless your little heart, you just
stan' pat, an' you kin make a dress outer dollar bills."

"But what have I to do with all this? Why cannot you settle your
business without pursuing me?" was the mournful question, for Winifred
never guessed how greatly the man's information affected her.

"I can't ri