“You mustn’t do this, Edith; you must do your part,” said Mrs. Varney. The resolution of the girl gave way. “He is there,” she faltered piteously, “he is there at the further end of the veranda. What more do you want of me?” Her voice rose in spite of her efforts to control herself. “Call him to the room, and do it naturally. If any one else should do it he would suspect something immediately and be on his guard.” “Very well,” said the girl helplessly. “I will call him.” She turned toward the window. “Wait,” said Arrelsford, “one thing more. I want him to have this paper.” He handed Edith the communication which had been taken from Jonas earlier in the evening. “What am I to do with this?” asked the girl, taking it. “Give it to him, and tell him where it came from. Tell him old Jonas got it from a prisoner at Libby Prison and brought it to you.” “But why am I to do this?” asked the girl. “Why not? If he is innocent, what’s the harm? If not, if he is in the plot and we can’t catch him otherwise, the message on the paper will send him to the telegraph office to-night, and that’s where we want him.” “But I never promised that,” said the girl with obvious reluctance to do anything not only that might tend to harm the suspected, but that might work to the furtherance of Arrelsford’s designs. “Do you still believe him innocent?” sneered the man. Edith lifted her head and for the first time she looked Arrelsford full in the face. “I still believe him innocent,” answered the girl, slowly and with deliberate emphasis. “Then why are you afraid to give him the paper?” asked Arrelsford, directly with cunning adroitness. The girl, thus entrapped, clasped the paper to her breast, and turned toward the window. Her mind was made up, but it was not necessary for her to call. Her ear, tuned to every sound he made, caught the noise of his footfall on the porch. She turned her head and spoke to the other two. “Captain Thorne is coming,” she whispered expressionlessly, “unless you want to be seen, you had better go.” “Here, this way, Mrs. Varney,” said Arrelsford, taking that lady by the arm and going down to the far end to the door covered by the portières. The two disappeared, and it was impossible for a soul to see them in the darkness of the hall, although they could see clearly enough, even in the dimly lighted drawing-room, everything that would happen. Edith stood as if rooted to the floor, the paper still in her hand, when Thorne opened the sash which she had closed behind her and entered in his turn the window through which she had come a short time before. He stepped eagerly toward her. “You were so long,” he whispered, “coming for me, that——” He stopped abruptly, and looked at her face, “is anything the matter?” “No.” “You had been away such a long time that I thought——” “Only a few minutes.”