e he had been standing.

"Stay where you are, Edith," he whispered. "If we hear any one coming,
we are just passing each other in the hall."

"I understand; of course, Hugh! But you--you're here! In his house!"

"Even lower, Edith; remember I'm Eaton--Philip Eaton."

"Of course; I know; and I'm Miss Davis here--Mildred Davis."

"They let you come in and out like this--as you want, with no one
watching you?"

"No, no; I do stenography for Mr. Avery sometimes, as I wrote you.
That is all. When he works here, I do his typing; and some even for
Mr. Santoine himself. But I am not confidential yet; they send for me
when they want me."

"Then they sent for you to-day?"

"No; but they have just got back, and I thought I would come to see if
anything was wanted. But never mind about me; you--how did you get
here? What are you doing here?"

Eaton drew further back into the alcove as some one passed through the
hall above. The girl turned swiftly to the tall pier mirror near to
which she stood; she faced it, slowly drawing off her gloves, trembling
and not looking toward him. The foot-steps ceased overhead; Eaton,
assured no one was coming down the stairs, spoke swiftly to tell her as
much as he might in their moment. "He--Santoine--wasn't taken ill on
the train, Edith; he was attacked."

"Attacked!" Her lips barely moved.

"He was almost killed; but they concealed it, Edith--pretended he was
only ill. I was on the train--you know, of course; I got your
wire--and they suspected me of the attack."

"You? But they didn't find out about you, Hugh?"

"No; they are investigating. Santoine would not let them make anything
public. He brought me here while he is trying to find out about me.
So I'm here, Edith--here! Is it here too?"

Again steps sounded in the hall above. The girl swiftly busied herself
with gloves and hat; Eaton stood stark in suspense. The servant
above--it was a servant they had heard before, he recognized
now--merely crossed from one room to another overhead. Now the girl's
lips moved again.

"It?" She formed the question noiselessly.

"The draft of the new agreement."

"It either has been sent to him, or it will be sent to him very
soon--here."

"Here in this house with me!"

"Mr. Santoine has to be a party to it--he's to draft it, I think.
Anyway, he hasn't seen it yet--I know that. It is either here now,
Hugh, or it will be here before long."

"You can't find out abou