He took the letter from Mr. Pyecroft's unwilling and untrustful hands and glanced it through. The next moment it was as though an arc light of excitement had been switched on within his ample person. With swift, expert fingers he compared the texture of the paper of the new letter and the earlier ones. "Great God!" he exulted. "Same paper--same handwriting--and it says just what I expected--and signed 'De Crécy'!" He held out the letter to Matilda. "Of course, you identify this as the letter you found?" But Matilda shrank away as though the letter was deadly poison. "I never saw the thing before!" "What's that?" cried the detective. "She's trying to hold out for more money," explained Mr. Pyecroft. From behind the detective's broad back he gave Matilda a warning look; then said softly: "Of course, it's the letter, isn't it, sister?" Matilda thought only of saving the hour. The day would have to save itself. "Yes," she said. "Might--might I see it?" huskily inquired Mrs. De Peyster. "Sure. The more that corroborates it the better." Her face to the wall, the faint light slanting across her shoulder, she glanced at the letter. The Duke's own handwriting! And a jilting letter!--politely worded--but a jilting letter!... Mrs. De Peyster jilted!... If that were ever to come out-- For a moment she lay enfeebled and overwhelmed with horror. Then convulsively she crushed the letter in her hands. "See here--wha' d' you mean?" cried the startled detective, springing forward; in a moment his powerful hands rescued the document. "Both of my sisters think we ought to stand out for more money," apologized Mr. Pyecroft. "And I'm not so sure they're not right." "We've made our bargain already," quickly returned Mr. Brown. "And that's just how we'll settle." He started to slip the letter into a pocket. But Mr. Pyecroft caught hold of it. "How about the money?" "You mean you don't trust me?" "I'm not saying that," apologized Mr. Pyecroft. "But this means a lot to us. We can't afford to run any risks." "All right, then." [Illustration: "SAME PAPER--SAME HANDWRITING!"] Mr. Brown released the letter, drew a leather wallet from inside his vest, counted off six five-hundred-dollar bills, returned the wallet and held out the bills. The exchange was made. The detective carefully put the letter into a thick manila envelope, which he licked and sealed and put inside his vest to keep company with the wallet. Mr. Pyecroft counted the bills, slowly, three or four times; then looked up. "I bet my sisters were right; you would have paid more," he said regretfully, greedily. "Never you mind what I would have paid!" retorted the detective, buttoning his coat over the letter. "You'd have paid twice that!" Mr. Pyecroft exclaimed disappointedly. The detective, triumphant, could not resist grinning confirmingly. "We've been outwitted!" cried Mr. Pyecroft. He turned to the two woman contritely. "If I'd only heeded you--let you have managed the affair!"