You would not permit me to explain to you to-night, therefore I must write. The recent affair was a mistake. I had no intention that you should lose, and I supposed you were in more funds. I insist upon speaking with you. You shall not go away in this fashion. You will find me at the Elite Cafe, at a table, at ten o'clock in the morning. And in case you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am utterly miserable. E. To Frank Beeson, Esquire. Faugh! Had there been a sewer near I believe that I should have thrown the whole enclosure in, and spat. But half unconsciously wadding both money and paper in my hand as if to squeeze the last drop of rancor from them I swung on, seeing blindly, ready to trample under foot any last obstacle to my passage out. Then, in the deserted way, from a lane among the straggling shacks, a figure issued. I disregarded it, only to hear it pattering behind me and its voice: "Mr. Beeson! Wait! Please wait." I had to turn about to avoid the further degradation of acting the churl to her, an inferior. And as I had suspected, she it was, arriving breathless and cloak inwrapped, only her white face showing. "You have my note?" she panted. There were dark half circles under her eyes, pinch lines about her mouth, all her face was wildly strained. She simulated distress very well indeed. "Here it is, and your money. Take them." And I thrust my unclosed fist at her. "No! And you were going? You didn't intend to reply?" "Certainly not. I am done with you, and with Benton, madam. Good-morning. I have business." She caught at my sleeve. "You are angry. I don't blame you, but you have time to talk with me and you shall talk." She spoke almost fiercely. "I demand it, sir. If not at the cafe, then here and now. Will you stand aside, please, where the whole town shan't see us; or do you wish me to follow you on? I'm risking already, but I'll risk more." I sullenly stepped aside, around the corner of a sheet-iron groggery (plentifully punctured, I noted, with bullet holes) not yet open for business and faced by the blank wall of a warehouse. "I've been waiting since daylight," she panted, "and watching the hotel. I knew you were still there; I found out. I was afraid you wouldn't answer my note, so I slipped around and cut in on you. Where are you going, sir?" "That, madam, is my private affair," I replied. "And all your efforts to influence me in the slightest won't amount to a row of pins. And as I am in a hurry, I again bid you good-morning. I advise you to get back to your husband and your beauty sleep, in order to be fresh for your Big Tent to-night."