“Dangerous by violence. Do you think those who sent me here--four thousand miles--to get that letter, will let you escape with it? Once you have read it, there will be no more safety for you on the face of the earth. Death will dog your footsteps and sit by your side. Sleeping and waking, he will be upon you. You cannot beg for mercy, for there will be no one from whom to beg. When I go out of that door, I disappear, and even if you could find me, it would not save you, for I am only an agent, powerless to change the will of my superiors. I give you my word that in asking for that letter I am trying to save your life, as well as to gain my own ends. I give you my word that I know of no way in which you can evade your fate, once you have read it. For the last time, I beg you, take the money and give me the letter.” There was silence in the room as the valet turned the letter over and over, staring at it, hesitating. His fingers trembled and his eyes grew wider. With a shock, Caruth realized that murder had been threatened in his very presence--and that he was not horrified, as he knew he ought to have been. Rather, he sympathized with the woman, who towered above the man in angry beauty. At last the valet broke the silence. “My God!” he whispered. “My God!” Slowly and unsteadily, he made his way to the table and laid the letter upon it. Slowly, he picked up the bills one by one. Then he raised his heavy eyes and for an instant looked into the face of the woman. The next moment he was at the door, hurrying away with the swift, silent footsteps of the well-trained servant. The portières fell together behind him. With a long sigh of relief, the girl picked up the letter. The strain of the past moments showed itself in her face. “I will return your money as soon as I can see my friends,” she declared weariedly. “Meanwhile, perhaps you will retain this.” She stripped a ring from her fingers. “It is worth more than the money,” she added. Caruth drew back, deeply hurt. “Thank you,” he returned angrily, “but I am not a pawnbroker--even if I am accessory to a threat to commit murder. Return the money when you like.” He spoke bitterly, for he was furious that he should have allowed his man to be forced into the surrender of his rights. Man-like, he felt the necessity of blaming his own derelictions on some one else. Miss Fitzhugh seemed to understand, for she stepped forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Believe me, Mr. Caruth,” she declared earnestly, “believe me, you have done right. Whatever value this letter possessed belongs to us of right. The man who wrote it betrayed a secret that was not his; and, whether his or no, your valet could not have profited by it. You have done a good deed, and you have been as kind and true and staunch to me as my own brother could have been. My mother was right when she told me a woman could always appeal safely to an American gentleman. Now, good-night and good-by.”