“God is merciful,” she murmured. “Romaine shall never know, and only learn to wonder over the benefaction of an unknown but generous hand. “And now, his public name, his barren honors can never be soiled by man’s cold sneer. It is the blessed nepenthe of the silent grave.” Elaine Willoughby was recalled to a need of stern and instant action by Endicott’s demand for the document, the vastly dangerous paper whose existence now alarmed Senator Alynton. And all alert, she bade her schoolboy servitor summon Roundsman Daly instantly. “I must forego my full vengeance on Vreeland,” she murmured, “to save my friends. The paper once regained, I can leave the Street forever, but Vreeland’s silence must be first assured. It is better to steal it from its hiding-place, and not wait to trap him there.” She was keenly suspicious of Justine Duprez, who, hollow-eyed and half-defiant, now demanded an absence of a few days on urgent private affairs. The girl’s burning fever of fear for her lover was almost an ecstasy of jealous agony. She feared a coming storm. With a single touch of the bell, the Lady of Lakemere called in the private detective. “Detain that woman here, even by the strongest use of force, till Roundsman Daly comes,” she said, with flashing eyes. “She is dangerous. Remember! force if needed. And, do not lose her from your sight an instant.” In ten minutes, Daly, with a strange light of battle in his eyes, stood before Mrs. Willoughby. “It is now just the time to spring the trap!” he said. “I have two men steadily on watch down in South Fifth Avenue. Vreeland has been lurking around here to warn Justine to meet him at once. He intends, I am sure, to leave the country, for I have already arrested Helms and the letter-carrier, Mulholland. You must act, and at once, or you will lose the bird.” “Then,” cried Elaine Willoughby, turning ashen in her heart-sinking, “hasten to the rooms yourself. Arrest him! Get the paper! It must come to me alone, whatever happens—remember that. There is human life, public honor and the happiness of innocent hearts all hanging on your success. For God’s sake, hasten! Bring me that paper!” A ferocious joy gleamed in Daly’s eyes. He felt for his Colt’s police pistol and his steel handcuffs. “Hold the Frenchwoman tightly. Lock her up by force! I will be here in an hour, and the paper shall reach no one’s eyes but mine. “But as to Justine, let Dobson arrest her, and handcuff her. Give her a good frightening, but watch her that she does herself no harm.” As Daly stole down the side stairs of the “Circassia,” there was a muffled scream as the handcuffs closed on the plump wrists of Justine Duprez. It was the beginning of the end, and Harold Vreeland had lost his last friend. He was in the jaws of Fate now. “Dobson has made sure. Now for my man, and to pay off old scores!” cried Dan Daly, as he sprang into a carriage.