"Be careful," I said, between my teeth. "This sort of thing may go too far." He gave me a furious look, and shaking me off, left the room. _February 22d._ TWO A.M.--My brain is reeling. My world is upside down. There is no use in trying to sleep. I will write down what has happened. It may calm me. This evening when I entered the house where I was to entertain others at the expense of my self-respect, I found I was before the time. The rooms were empty, with the exception of my hostess, a very old lady, who held a formidable ear-trumpet in her hand. Preceding me down the brightly lighted room was a gentleman. There was something unpleasantly familiar in the cut of his coat and the carriage of his head. It was my evil genius, Morton. I made up my mind to wait until some one else came, before going in. As I stood in the background this scene was enacted before me: Morton bowed. The old lady looked blankly at him. "I am Mr. Morton, madam," said he. She continued to stare at him, and then held out her trumpet. Morton took it, and repeated his words into its depths. "Horton?" she said, interrogatively. "Morton," he called. "Oh yes, Lawton--Mr. Lawton." "Morton!" he fairly shouted. "Oh yes," she said, intelligence breaking over her face. "Morton--Mr. Morton, from the Globe office. Where's the other? There were to have been two. Just take care of yourself, please, for a moment. I have to go and see about something." She tottered out of the room, and Morton, turning, confronted me. He saw that I had overheard all. Before I could speak he came toward me with an air of desperation. "For Heaven's sake don't betray me, Valentine, now that you know my secret," he exclaimed. "I have felt from the first that you suspected--that I was in your power. I throw myself on your mercy. In your safe and prosperous condition you don't know--you can't know--what a frightful position I am in." My face must have changed in some ghastly manner as he spoke, for he stopped and looked at me with deepening consternation. "What is it? What's the matter?" he asked. I saw my mistake, and tried to look unconcerned, but at that moment the old lady came back into the room. "Oh, there's the other," she said, as she saw me. "His name's Valentine, so that's all right." Several people came into the room, and she went forward to greet them. Morton looked at me in dazed silence for a minute; then he seemed to master his astonishment by a mighty effort. "So," he said, huskily, "we are quits. I am in your power, but you are equally in mine. Be careful how you interfere with me." We did not speak again together during the evening. What is to be the end of this? To-morrow I go to see Miss Courtland, and I have made up my mind to confess everything. Perhaps she will think no worse of me. The queen still loved Ruy Blas after she found he was a lackey. What nonsense am I dreaming of?