“Zat is how I made my mistake. But I did not know until I came back to Tehachapi. Ze White Wolf is alive. It is he who has brought you here as his guest. Now you will read zis letter, and zen all things you will comprehend.” Pierre laid the missive on the damask table cloth in front of Dick. The latter fastened his eyes on it in speechless surprise. Before he recovered himself Pierre, lifting the tray of empty dishes, had noiselessly disappeared. “Mystery upon mystery,” murmured Dick as he broke the seal. The letter was a brief one, and began without any of the usual forms of personal address: “You are in safe and honorable keeping. Have no care. Nor need you worry about your friends—they will be informed of your safety. “Just as soon as possible the real slayer of Marshall Thurston will be revealed. You will be completely exonerated and can then return to the world, a free man. By this means a certain young lady will be spared from the gossip and the publicity which, although she has been brave enough to say it does not matter, would bring for her annoyance and pain. “If she is dear to you, as the writer of this letter believes, you will help to shield her from vulgar curiosity by remaining quietly where you are until the proper hour for your deliverance comes. It is only necessary for you to give your word of honor to Pierre Luzon that you will make no attempt to escape or reveal your whereabouts. Your trustfulness will be rewarded—this is the solemn promise of “Don Manuel de Valencia, “Your friend.” Dick read and re-read the strange message. All at once he became conscious that Pierre Luzon was again standing by his chair. Their eyes met. “Does Mr. Willoughby give ze promise required?” asked Pierre. Dick rose to his feet and extended his hand. “I promise, Pierre. You have my word of honor. The letter says that is enough.” “I have read ze letter before it was sealed. We all know Mr. Willoughby’s word is enough—it is as good as one gold bond.” “I’d do anything for Merle Farnsworth,” continued Dick, carried away by his fervid emotion. “I would die for her, if need be, to save her from one moment’s pain.” “Don Manuel he know that,” replied Pierre. Dick paused and his look changed. “How the devil does he know I love the girl?” “Ah!” The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Ah! Don Manuel he know everything. But now, I am under orders not to speak. Over there you will find ze latest newspapers, sir,” he went on, pointing to the table laden with literature, “and every few days more will be brought for you—not only ze newspapers of Los Angeles and San Francisco, but also, ze newspapers of New York and London and Paris, all of which monsieur is accustomed to read.” “Great Scott, you seem to know,” exclaimed Dick in a low voice. Pierre continued placidly: