onfess that at first this letter dumfounded me. "Ohs!" and "Ahs!"
slipped from my open mouth. The old servant stared at me, not knowing
what to think.

"Oh, sir! is it bad news?"

I answered for I kept few secrets from this faithful soul by reading
her the letter from end to end. She listened with much anxiety.

"A joke, without doubt," said I, shrugging my shoulders.

"Well," returned my superstitious handmaid, "if it isn't from the
devil, it's from the devil's country, anyway."

Left alone, I again went over this unexpected letter. Reflection
inclined me yet more strongly to believe that it was the work of a
practical joker. My adventure was well known. The newspapers had
given it in full detail. Some satirist, such as exists even in
America, must have written this threatening letter to mock me.

To assume, on the other hand, that the Eyrie really served as the
refuge of a band of criminals, seemed absurd. If they feared that the
police would discover their retreat, surely they would not have been
so foolish as thus to force attention upon themselves. Their chief
security would lie in keeping their presence there unknown. They must
have realized that such a challenge from them would only arouse the
police to renewed activity. Dynamite or melinite would soon open an
entrance to their fortress. Moreover, how could these men have,
themselves, gained entrance into the Eyrie unless there existed a
passage which we had failed to discover? Assuredly the letter came
from a jester or a madman; and I need not worry over it, nor even
consider it.

Hence, though for an instant I had thought of showing this letter to
Mr. Ward, I decided not to do so. Surely he would attach no
importance to it. However, I did not destroy it, but locked it in my
desk for safe keeping. If more letters came of the same kind, and
with the same initials, I would attach as little weight to them as to
this.

Several days passed quietly. There was nothing to lead me to expect
that I should soon quit Washington; though in my line of duty one is
never certain of the morrow. At any moment I might be sent speeding
from Oregon to Florida, from Maine to Texas. And this unpleasant
thought haunted me frequently if my next mission were no more
successful than that to the Great Eyrie, I might as well give up and
hand in my resignation from the force. Of the mysterious chauffeur or
chauffeurs, nothing more was heard. I knew that our own government
agents,