"Yes," said Jake. "After helping to drive her father out of the country, I knew it would be an awkward meeting, but I felt I ought to go because she might be in difficulties, and I went twice. On the whole, it was a relief when I was told she was not at home." "I wonder whether she would see me?" "You're pretty smart, but I suspect this is too delicate a matter for you to meddle with." "I'll be better able to judge if you tell me what you know about it." Jake did so with some hesitation. He knew his sister's talents and that her object was good, but he shrank from betraying his comrade's secrets. "I think I've put you wise, but I feel rather mean," he concluded. "What you feel is not important. But you really think he hasn't sent her Kenwardine's letter?" Jake made a sign of agreement and Ida resumed: "The other letter stating that his cousin stole the plans is equally valuable and his making no use of it is significant. Your partner's a white man, Jake, but he's foolish and needs the help of a judicious friend. I want both letters." "I've warned you that it's a dangerous game. You may muss up things." "Then I'll be responsible. Can you get the letters?" "I think so," Jake replied with an embarrassed grin. "In a way, it's a shabby trick, but if he will keep papers in his pocket after getting one lot stolen, he must take the consequences." "Very well," said Ida calmly. "Now we had better go in before the others wonder why we left them." Next morning Clare sat in the patio in very low spirits. No word had come from Kenwardine, and her money was nearly exhausted. She had heard of Dick's return, but not that he was injured, and he had kept away. This was not surprising and she did not want to meet him; but it was strange that he had not come to see her and make some excuse for what he had done. He could, of course, make none that would appease her, but he ought to have tried, and it looked as if he did not care what she thought of his treachery. Then she glanced up as Ida came in. Clare had seen Ida in the street and knew who she was, but she studied her with keen curiosity as she advanced. Her dress was tasteful, she was pretty, and had a certain stamp of refinement and composure that Clare knew came from social training; but she felt antagonistic. For all that, she indicated a chair and waited until her visitor sat down. Then she asked with a level glance: "Why have you come to see me?" "I expect you mean--why did I come without getting your servant to announce me?" Ida rejoined with a disarming smile. "Well, the gate was open, and I wanted to see you very much, but was half afraid you wouldn't let me in. I owe you some apology, but understand that my brother is a friend of yours." "He was," Clare said coldly. "Then he has lost your friendship by taking Dick Brandon's part?" Clare colored, but her voice was firm as she answered: "To some extent that is true. Mr. Brandon has cruelly injured us."