"A. L. & M. is down too," the broker volunteered. "That is only sympathetic," Santoine replied. He hung up. His hand, straining to control its agitation, reached for the bell; he rang; a servant came. "Get me note-paper," Santoine commanded. The servant went out and returned with paper. The nurse had followed him in; she turned the leaf of the bed-table for Santoine to write. The blind man could write as well as any other by following the position of the lines with the fingers of his left hand. He wrote a short note swiftly now, folded, sealed and addressed it and handed it to the servant. "Have that delivered by a messenger at once," he directed. "There will be no written answer, I think; only something sent back--a photograph. See that it is brought to me at once." He heard the servant's footsteps going rapidly away. He was shaking with anger, horror, resentment; he was almost--not quite--sure now of all that had taken place; of why Warden had been murdered, of what vague shape had moved behind and guided all that had happened since. He recalled Eaton's voice as he had heard it first on the train at Seattle; and now he was almost sure--not quite--that he could place that voice, that he knew where he had heard it before. He lay with clenched hands, shaking with rage; then by effort of his will he put these thoughts away. The nurse reminded him again of his need for food. "I want nothing now," he said. "Have it ready when I wake up. When the doctor comes, tell him I am going to get up to-day and dress." He turned and stretched himself upon his bed; so, finally, he slept. CHAPTER XXII THE MAN HUNT The rolling, ravine-gullied land where Harriet had left Eaton was wooded thickly with oaks, maples and ash; the ground between these trees was clear of undergrowth upon the higher parts of the land, but its lower stretches and the ravines themselves were shrouded with closely growing bushes rising higher than a man's waist, and, where they grew rankest, higher than a man's head. In summer, when trees and bushes were covered with leaves, this underbrush offered cover where a man could conceal himself perfectly; now, in the early spring before the trees had even budded, that man would be visible for some distance by day and nearly as clearly visible by night if the headlights of the motor-cars chanced to shine into the woods.