"It would make this difference," he replied, in the same quiet tone, "that you could not think of me as one who loved you for your fortune, or one who hoped to gain anything from the marriage but the dearest, sweetest woman in the world." The eyes which she turned upon him were bright with unshed tears. "I do not know how I feel, Frank," she said. "I am almost as much a mystery to myself as I must be to you. I care for you in a way, but I am not sure that I care for you as you would like me to." "Is there anybody else?" he asked, after a pause. She avoided his glance, and sat twining the cord of her sunshade about her fingers. "There is nobody else--definitely," she said. "Or tentatively?" he insisted. "There are always tentative people in life," she smiled, parrying his question. "I think, Frank, you stand as great a chance as anybody." She shrugged her shoulders. "I speak as though I were some wonderful prize to be bestowed; I assure you I do not feel at all like that. I have a very humble opinion of my own qualities. I do not think I have felt so meek or so modest about my own qualities as I do just now." He walked with her to the end of the park, and saw her into a taxicab, standing on the pavement and watching as she was whirled into the enveloping traffic, out of sight. As for Doris Gray, she herself was suffering from some uneasiness of mind. She needed a shock to make her realize one way or the other where her affections lay. Poltavo loomed very largely; his face, his voice, the very atmosphere which enveloped him, was constantly present with her. She reached Brakely Square and would have passed straight up to her room, but the butler, with an air of importance, stopped her. "I have a letter here, miss. It is very urgent. The messenger asked that it should be placed in your hands at the earliest possible moment." She took the letter from him. It was addressed to her in typewritten characters. She stripped the envelope and found yet another inside. On it was typewritten: "Read this letter when you are absolutely alone. Lock the door and be sure that nobody is near when you read it." She raised her pretty eyebrows. What mystery was this? she asked. Still, she was curious enough to carry out the request. She went straight to her own room, opened the envelope, and took out a letter containing half a dozen lines of writing. She gasped, and went white, for she recognized the hand the moment her eyes fell upon it. The letter she held in her shaking hand ran: "I command you to marry Frank Doughton within seven days. My whole fortune and my very life may depend upon this." It was signed "Gregory Farrington," and heavily underlined beneath the signature were the words, "Burn this, as you value my safety." * * * * * T. B. Smith stepped briskly into the office of his chief and closed the door behind him. "What is the news?" asked Sir George, looking up.