"They let you come in and out like this--as you want, with no one watching you?" "No, no; I do stenography for Mr. Avery sometimes, as I wrote you. That is all. When he works here, I do his typing; and some even for Mr. Santoine himself. But I am not confidential yet; they send for me when they want me." "Then they sent for you to-day?" "No; but they have just got back, and I thought I would come to see if anything was wanted. But never mind about me; you--how did you get here? What are you doing here?" Eaton drew further back into the alcove as some one passed through the hall above. The girl turned swiftly to the tall pier mirror near to which she stood; she faced it, slowly drawing off her gloves, trembling and not looking toward him. The foot-steps ceased overhead; Eaton, assured no one was coming down the stairs, spoke swiftly to tell her as much as he might in their moment. "He--Santoine--wasn't taken ill on the train, Edith; he was attacked." "Attacked!" Her lips barely moved. "He was almost killed; but they concealed it, Edith--pretended he was only ill. I was on the train--you know, of course; I got your wire--and they suspected me of the attack." "You? But they didn't find out about you, Hugh?" "No; they are investigating. Santoine would not let them make anything public. He brought me here while he is trying to find out about me. So I'm here, Edith--here! Is it here too?" Again steps sounded in the hall above. The girl swiftly busied herself with gloves and hat; Eaton stood stark in suspense. The servant above--it was a servant they had heard before, he recognized now--merely crossed from one room to another overhead. Now the girl's lips moved again. "It?" She formed the question noiselessly. "The draft of the new agreement." "It either has been sent to him, or it will be sent to him very soon--here." "Here in this house with me!" "Mr. Santoine has to be a party to it--he's to draft it, I think. Anyway, he hasn't seen it yet--I know that. It is either here now, Hugh, or it will be here before long." "You can't find out about that?" "Whether it is here, or when it will be? I think I can." "Where will it be when it is here?" "Where? Oh!" The girl's eyes went to the wall close to where Eaton stood; she seemed to measure with them a definite distance from the door and a point shoulder high, and to resist the impulse to come over and put her hand upon the spot. As Eaton followed her look, he heard a slight and muffled click as if from the study; but no sound could reach them through the study doors and what he heard came from the wall itself. "A safe?" he whispered. "Yes; Miss Santoine--she's in there, isn't she?--closed it just now. There are two of them hidden behind the books one on each side of the door." Eaton tapped gently on the wall; the wall was brick; the safe undoubtedly was backed with steel. "The best way is from inside the room," he concluded. She nodded. "Yes. If you--"