ccessfully through the
courts--if they passed into enemy hands. I insisted that there must be
something about my father. There could be no mistake, and unless Louis
would let me look, I'd never marry him. He still objected, arguing that
all the things were in one envelope, sealed with three seals, which must
not be broken, or his sister and her husband would never forgive him.

"He went to his desk--we were in his sitting-room--and showed me a
secret drawer between two other drawers. He took out an envelope--you've
seen it. 'I'll try to cut off the seals with a sharp knife,' he said,
'and I can stick them on again. While he spoke, he began looking for the
knife he wanted, and I snatched at the envelope. But his fingers closed
down on it. He laughed in my face. 'So that's your game!' he said. 'I'm
not so soft as you thought!' But I struggled with him. I was strong; he
was an invalid. He'd just been ill. When he realized that I was more
than his match, his face looked like a devil's. I shall never forget it.
'You'll pay for this!' he screamed at the top of his voice--an awful
scream--'Help! murder!'

"Overhead was what they called the living room. I knew he would be
heard; people would come. I wrenched the envelope from him, and ran for
the window. I dared not go to the door; I should meet someone and be
caught. Louis grabbed my dress, shouting 'murder!' Then I seemed to go
mad. I gave him a push, and he fell over a chair, and lay quite still. I
rushed to the door, locked it, and took the key, to make a few minutes'
delay. Then I jumped out of the window (I told you Louis' rooms were on
the ground floor) and ran very fast. I won't stop now to tell you the
adventures I had before I managed to dash into the Albuquerque railway
station, at the last minute, after the train was in. Once in the train
when I didn't see Louis, or Mr. Heron's secretary, or any one I expected
to follow me, I began to hope that some other trail had been followed.
It would have seemed more likely that I'd go back west, where I had
friends, than travel east where I was a stranger. You promised to stand
by me. Then you met Justin O'Reilly. I didn't dream Louis was dead. It
was a week later, when you and I were married, that I saw in a newspaper
about the beautiful Mrs. John Heron losing her brother suddenly, from
heart disease. A date was mentioned: the night I took the envelope. Oh,
Roger, I felt that I was guilty of his death. Even to save Stephen I