“You heard this?” she demanded, and her face was pale. “I did.” He regarded her curiously; then a thought struck him. “By George, it was she after all. She must have stolen away to find Forrester.” “Forrester!” “Of course. He was there. I saw them together in the lower hall immediately after you snatched the packet and ran. And Farbush was standing before them wild with passion, and with a revolver in his hand.” Without a word Dallas arose, went swiftly to a small bookcase at the farther side of the room, and opened a secret and cunningly contrived drawer at its base. Then she turned and he saw that her face was as white as death. “It’s gone!” she said. “Not--not--?” he could not finish. “Yes, the packet.” He stood for a moment overwhelmed. “You are sure that it is gone?” he cried. “Look again!” She shook her head. “No use. I am quite sure.” “And you are positive that you placed it there?” She nodded. “It was the safest place I knew of,” she answered. “But the drawer is a secret one! Who knew of it beside yourself?” “Anna, only.” “Ah!” and a look of intelligence came into his face. “And when was she here last?” “Less than an hour ago.” XVIII KENYON SHOWS HIS METAL “He is a young man of quick observation and sure judgment. And once he has made up his mind, he acts like lightning.” --_Extract from a letter of Nunez._ FOR a moment Dallas Gilbert and Steele Kenyon stood looking into each other’s face in silence; each was reading a suspicion akin to their own. “I’m inclined to think that Anna has the packet,” stated Kenyon, slowly. “I am sure of it,” cried the girl. “Oh, I have always hated myself for not believing in her! She seemed so child-like in some things, and she is so clinging and pretty.” “Ah! Then there has always been a sort of distrust of her?” “Yes. I could not make up my mind, at times, that she was quite sincere; I often thought that I detected a hidden purpose in her apparently artless questions. Once or twice I have noticed--” But she paused, hesitatingly, then broke out: “But I must not talk this way to you. You do not understand the situation.” Kenyon bowed. “There are a great many things, as I have had occasion to remark upon one or two previous occasions, that I do not understand in this case,” said he, smiling. Again he saw hesitancy in her eyes; then she suddenly held out her hand. “I ask your pardon,” she said, simply. Quickly he took the hand; but his manner told her that he did not understand. “For things that I have said, and things that I have done. I did not believe in you--then.” “And now?” eagerly. “I know you to be a brave man.” A slight shadow came upon his face.