"First of all, I must tell you," he said, with dignity, "that I have asked Miss Mary Blake to become my wife." Peter drew in a sharp breath. He knew, as all the world knew, of Mary Blake's sudden leap from obscurity into world-wide fame; he had some knowledge, through friends in the theatrical profession, of how dark that obscurity had remained. And Donald Morris--the heir to the Morris millions! That he should---- "And Miss Blake has accepted." Clancy's words were in no sense a question, so sure was he that there could be no other conclusion. Morris flushed slightly. "She refused," he said, quietly, "but in such a way that I had hopes--I believed----" He paused, then went on, "That was late Saturday night. I have not seen her since. There is only her letter, and----" "May I see the letter?" asked Peter, gravely. "I think, perhaps, that it's a lot to ask, but, you see," he broke off, "there isn't so much to show here that there's anything to be alarmed at. It looks as if there had been a burglary--and there's that scarf. But there isn't an awful lot to get excited about, seems to me. If Miss Blake went off at the end of the season and took her sister with her----" "That's another thing," interrupted Donald, hastily. "Did her sister go with her? Somehow--I can't just tell you why--I have a feeling that perhaps she didn't. Though I've never met Miss Anne, somewhere I've gotten the impression that--that they weren't exactly friendly.... Whether it was the way Mary spoke when I asked about her sister ... or whether it was what she said in the letter." "Let me see the letter, Mr. Morris," said Clancy, gravely. "Let me judge for myself." CHAPTER VI "MY SISTER, ANNE----" Slowly, Donald Morris put his hand inside the breast of his coat and drew out several slightly crumpled sheets of paper. He spread them out and his eyes rested tenderly on these words-- MY BELOVED---- I write it for the first--and perhaps, who knows--the last time. But I have said it in my heart for so long--My beloved! I can say it to you now without shame--after last night. His eyes travelled on down the succeeding pages to the end. When he had finished, he turned down the top of the first page. "I will ask you not to read that." He addressed Clancy with a quiet reserve which became him well. "It is significant only to me and, I think, can have no bearing on what has happened. I will be glad if you will read the rest." He handed the letter to Clancy who scrutinized it closely. It was evidently written in haste and under the stress of great excitement. He read-- I did not sleep. I have been thinking and thinking--how much to tell you--how to explain---- My sister Anne, with whom I live is---- (This last sentence was heavily crossed out, almost obliterated, but Peter was sure that these were the words.) The letter went on--