I couldn't help it. You see, I was so frightened at what you all said, that I didn't know what to do. I came over to New York, with a vague idea of asking Mr. Price to help me. I stayed with Ethel all night, and somehow things seemed to look so black, I couldn't think of anything but to go to Carr. I went down to the steamer office to see about changing my tickets for an earlier date, or something, and I found the _Catalonia_ sailed to-day. I'm scratching this off to go back by the pilot. I had about two hours to get ready, so I bought a trunk and some clothes, went to the bank and got a letter of credit, and here I am. I don't know yet whether I'm glad or sorry to be here. But I know I could not stand it at Garden Steps another minute, with you and Anita both against me! Mr. Stone doesn't believe I did it, but he is doubtful of being able to prove my innocence, so I'm going to Carr, and you can address me in his care. He's my nearest relative, and it's right for me to go there. I cabled him from New York to expect me, and to meet me at Alexandria. I'd write more, but it's most time for the pilot to go, and I want to send a word to Mr. Stone. Of course, you will look after all my bills and affairs till further notice. Pauline. "Good Lord!" said Gray, "Think of that poor child going off like that, because she thought you and I were against her!" "Well, aren't you?" asked Anita, an angry gleam in her eyes. "No! never!" shouted Gray. "If Pauline is guilty a thousand times, I'm not against her! I'm _for_ her, Anita, for her, first, last and all the time! Come on, now, let's take Mr. Stone his letter." They found Stone in the boudoir, the room where the ghastly crime had been committed. He spent many hours here of late; it seemed necessary for the furthering of his theory, and yet, whenever any one was admitted to his presence there, he was found sitting staring at the room and its furnishings, as if waiting for the inanimate objects to speak. "A letter? From Miss Stuart?" he said, eagerly. "I hoped for one, by the pilot." He opened it, and after a glance handed it over to Haviland. It said, only: My dear Mr. Stone: Thank you for your belief in me, and forgive me for running away. And, please,--oh, I beg of you, _please_ drop the case entirely. Your further investigation and discovery can only bring sorrow and anguish to my already distracted soul. I have no time to write more, but assume that I have put forth any or every argument that could persuade you, and at once cease all effort to learn who is responsible for the death of my aunt. Sincerely yours, Pauline Stuart. XX IN THE BOUDOIR