Sincerely,

M. HALKIN.

Even after she had concluded the letter, she still stared at it.
She read again the one conclusive sentence--"Your anonymity has been
splendidly preserved up till now." Then she suddenly broke into a laugh
which was almost hysterical.

"So this is his hack journalism!" she exclaimed. "Julian Orden--Paul
Fiske!"

"I don't wonder you're surprised," Fenn observed. "Fourteen guineas for
a dress suit, and he thinks he understands the working man!"

She turned her head slowly and looked at him. There was a strange,
repressed fire in her eyes. "You are a very foolish person," she said.
"Your parents, I suppose, were small shopkeepers, or something of the
sort, and you were brought up at a board-school and Julian Orden at
Eton and Oxford, and yet he understands, and you do not. You see, heart
counts, and sympathy, and the flair for understanding. I doubt whether
these things are really found where you come from."

He caught up his hat. His face was very white. His tone shook with
anger.

"This is our own fault," he exclaimed angrily, "for having ever
permitted an aristocrat to hold any place in our counsels! Before we
move a step further, we'll purge them of such helpers as you and such
false friends as Julian Orden."

"You very foolish person," she repeated. "Stop, though. Why all this
mystery? Why did you try to keep that letter from me?"

"I conceived it to be for the benefit of our cause," he said
didactically, "that the anonymity--of `Paul Fiske' should be preserved."

"Rubbish!" she scoffed. "You were afraid of him. Why, what fools we are!
We will tell him the whole truth. We will tell him of our great scheme.
We will tell him what we have been working for, these many months. The
Bishop shall tell him, and you and I, and Miles Furley, and Cross. He
shall hear all about it. He is with us! He must be with us! You shall
put him on the Council. Why, there is your great difficulty solved,"
she went on, in growing excitement. "There is not a working man in the
country who would not rally under `Paul Fiske's' banner. There you have
your leader. It is he who shall deliver your ultimatum."

"I'm damned if it is!" Fenn declared, suddenly throwing his hat down and
coming towards her furiously. "I'm--"

The door opened. Robert stood there.

"The message, madam," he began--and then stopped short. She crossed the
room towards him.

"Robert," she said, "I think I have found the way to bring you