“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Owen, an inspiration coming to him. “I think I’ve got the answer. This envelope was exactly the same shape and design as the rest in the box, wasn’t it, Dallas?” “Yes; exactly the same as the others, except that it was white instead of pink.” “And it appeared to you to be pink?” “Yes; and I am not color blind--if that is what you are going to imply,” replied Dallas, mildly indignant. “I’m not quite so sure of that,” said Owen, with a smile. “I’ll grant that you are not color blind under ordinary conditions, but these were not ordinary conditions.” “What do you mean by that?” “It was a dark afternoon when you addressed that envelope, and the electric light over your desk at the office was turned on, wasn’t it?” The girl nodded. “Yes, that’s so; but still----” “And the electric globe over your desk throws such a strong light that you have a piece of paper around it to shade it, haven’t you, Dallas? A piece of red paper; I noticed it the other day.” A look of enlightenment came to the girl’s face. “Why, yes; I understand how it happened now. That red shade around the electric light made that white envelope look pink, just like the rest.” “Exactly!” cried Owen happily; “and that solves the mystery of the missing pink envelope. I’m mighty glad now that I followed you to Chicago, Dallas.” CHAPTER XXIII. UNTO THE LAST. When Samuel J. Coggswell learned that his disciple and confidential man, Jake Hines, had been brought back to New York under arrest, he was greatly perturbed. “And what does he say?” he asked the reporter who brought him the news. “What does the misguided young man say? I suppose he has been making some sensational and, of course, absolutely false statements about me, eh?” He looked at his visitor anxiously. “On the contrary,” the newspaper man replied, “they can’t get a thing out of Jake, Mr. Coggswell. He refuses to talk.” An expression of great relief came to the district leader’s face. “Ah!” he exclaimed, his ears wiggling rapidly as he spoke. “Poor Jake, poor Jake! So they can’t get a word out of him, eh? Jake always was a stubborn young man--a very stubborn young man.” After the newspaper man had gone, Boss Coggswell sat in his private office at the clubhouse, smiling confidently to himself. “I might have known Jake wouldn’t squeal,” he mused. “He’s not that kind. Even though they’ve got him, I guess I’m safe.” Even in the worst of men there is usually some redeeming trait. Crook, grafter, and scoundrel as Jake Hines was, there was one thing which, perhaps, should be put down to his credit--his unswerving loyalty to his master. The prosecuting attorney, certain that Samuel J. Coggswell was behind the conspiracy against Owen Sheridan, which had landed Jake in the toils, and anxious to get the bigger fish in his net, if possible, offered to deal leniently with Hines if he would make a confession involving the boss. But Jake stubbornly refused.