The effect of her simple words on Barnes was almost magical. The dull colour streamed into his sallow cheeks, he shook all over with excitement. His voice, when he spoke, was almost hysterical. He had been so near to despair. This indeed had been almost his last hope. "A parcel!" he gasped. "A parcel! What sort of a parcel? Did he say that it was important?" "It's just a long envelope tied up with red tape and sealed," she answered. "Yes! he made a great fuss about leaving it with me." "Tell us all about it," he demanded greedily. "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Be quick!" "It must have been almost the very day it happened," she said, with a little shudder. "He came down in the afternoon and he seemed a bit queer, as though he had something on his mind. He took out the envelope once or twice and looked at it. Once he said to me, 'Agnes,' he said, 'there are men in London who, if they knew that I carried this with me, would kill me for it. I was frightened, and I begged him to leave it somewhere. I think he said that he had to have it always with him, because he couldn't think of a safe hiding-place for it. Just as he was going, though, he came back and took it out of his pocket once more." "He left it with you?" Barnes exclaimed. "You have it safe?" She nodded. "I was going to tell you. 'Look here, Agnes,' he said, 'I'm nervous to-night. I don't want to carry this about with me. I shall want it to-morrow and I'll come down for it. To-night's a dangerous night for me to be carrying it about.' Those were just about his last words. He gave me the packet and I begged him to be careful. Then he kissed me and off he went, smoking a cigar, and as cheerful as though he were going to a wedding." She began to cry again, but Barnes broke in upon her grief. "Didn't he tell you anything more about it?" he demanded. "He told me--if anything happened to him," she sobbed, "to open it." "We must do so," he declared. "We must do so at once. There must be a quarter's dividends overdue. We can get the money to-morrow, and then--oh! my God!" he exclaimed, as though the very anticipation made him faint. "Where is the packet?" "At the bottom of my tin trunk in my rooms," she answered. "I had to leave the house. I couldn't pay the rent any longer." "Where are the rooms?" he demanded. "We'll go there now." "In Labrador Street," she answered. "It's a poor part, but I've only a few shillings in the world." "We'll have a cab," he declared, rising. "Mr. Wrayson will lend us the money, perhaps?" "I will come with you," Wrayson said quietly. "We needn't bother you to do that," Sydney Barnes declared, with a suspicious glance. The young woman looked towards him appealingly. He nodded reassuringly. "I think," he said, "that it will be better for me to come. I am concerned in this business after all, you know." "I don't see how," Barnes declared sullenly. "_If_ this young lady is my sister-in-law, surely she and I can settle up our own affairs."