"We have your little girl. She is safe with us and will continue to be if you act in good faith and accede to our demands. We frankly state that our object in taking her was ransom and we are now ready to enter upon negotiations with you. This, however, only upon certain conditions. All transactions between us must be conducted with absolute secrecy. If any member of your family is told, if the police are notified, be assured that we will know it, and that it will react upon your child. Let it be clearly understood—if you inform against us, if you make an attempt to trap or apprehend us, she will pay the price. We hold her as a hostage; her fate is in your hands. If, however, you know of a person in no wise involved or connected with you or your family, having no personal interest in the matter, and of whose discretion and reliability you are convinced, we are willing to deal through them. Copy the form below, fill in blank spaces with name and address and insert in _Daily Record_ personals. "(Name).................................. "(Address)............................... "S. O. S. "_Clansmen._" Suzanne’s hand holding the paper dropped to her side and she looked about the room with eyes vacant and unseeing. All her outward forces were shocked into temporary suspension; for a moment she had no realization of where or who she was. The letter was the only fact she recognized and sentences from it chased through her consciousness: "We hold her as a hostage, her fate is in your hands. She is safe with us if you accede to our demands." She saw them written on the walls, they boomed in her ears like notes of doom. It was confirmation of that instinct she had tried to smother; like the wand of a baleful genii it had transformed her nightmare fancies into sinister reality. She felt a shriek rising to her lips and pressed her hand against them. Secrecy, silence, her stunned brain had grasped that and directed her restraining hand. Then the one deep feeling of her shallow nature called her shattered faculties into order. Love lent her power, steadied her, gave her the will to act. She sat down on the sofa and read the letter again, slowly, getting its full significance. For the first time in her life responsibility was cast upon her; she could throw the burden on no one else. By her own efforts, by her own courage and initiative, she must get Bébita back. She whispered it over, "I must do it. I must do it myself," then fell silent, her face stony in its tension of thought. Suddenly its rigidity broke; in an illuminating flash she saw the first step clear, and rising ran to the telephone. The person she called up was Larkin. He answered himself and she told him she wanted to see him on a matter of great importance and would come at once to his office.