horrible mystery. The
thought flashed through the young girl's mind that the wicked captain
had killed her father and had written to tell her so.

"Is my father dead?" she gasped.

"Not that I know of," said Dickory.

"Where is he?" she cried.

"I do not know," was the answer.

She stood, holding the letter, while Dickory returned to his mother.
Mr. Delaplaine saw her standing thus, pale and shocked, but he did not
hasten to her. He had sad things to say to her, for his practical mind
told him that it would not be possible to continue the search for her
father, he having put himself out of the reach of Captain Ichabod and
his inefficient sloop. If Dickory had said anything about her father
which had so cast her down, how much harder would it be for him when he
had to tell her the whole truth.

But Kate did not wait for further speech from anybody. She gave a great
start, and then rushed down the companion-way to her cabin. There, with
her door shut, she opened the letter. This was the letter, written in
lead pencil, in an irregular but bold hand, with some letters partly
dimmed where the paper had been damp:

"At the very end of my life I write to you that you have escaped
the fiercest love that ever a man had for a woman. I shall carry
this love with me to hell, if it may be, but you have escaped it.
This escape is a blessing, and now that I cannot help it I give it
to you. Had I lived, I should have shed the blood of every one whom
you loved to gain you and you would have cursed me. So love me now
for dying.

"Yours, anywhere and always,
CHRISTOPHER VINCE."

Kate put down the letter and some colour came into her face; she bowed
her head in thankful prayer.

"He is dead," she said, "and now he cannot harm my father." That was the
only thought she had regarding this hot-brained and infatuated lover. He
was dead, her father was safe from him. How he died, how Dickory came to
bring the letter, how anything had happened that had happened except the
death of Captain Vince, did not at this moment concern her. Not until
now had she known how the fear of the vengeful captain of the Badger had
constantly been with her.

Over and over again Dickory told his tale to his mother. She interrupted
him so much with her embraces that he could not explain things clearly
to her, but she did not care, she had him with