§3. He had forgotten Seeley and Ellison, but they were already gone, and Leighton was alone. Apparently the conference had been satisfactory, for the District-Attorney’s face was a little less careworn. "Mr. Leighton," said Luke, closing the door, "this man"—he indicated Rollins by a lazy movement of his hand—"is a secretary in the employ of the person to whom these letters belong—or belonged." He held out the letters that Rollins had given him. Leighton’s face clouded. "Office business? I thought I told you I had some personal matters to think over." Luke choked an impulse of resentment. "If you’ll look at these letters," he said, "I believe you’ll find they apply to—both sorts of duties." Leighton took the papers with a gesture of annoyance, but when he saw the signature to the more important of them, his eyes shone, and he looked up quickly. "Where did you get these?" He flung the question at Rollins. The informer had been standing behind Luke, as if seeking his shelter. His breath came heavily. "I found them in the office-files," he mumbled. "He stole them," said Luke quietly. "Oh, Mr. Huber, if you’re going to talk like that——" "He stole them," Luke pursued—"or so he says. The only question in my mind is: are they genuine?" Rollins showed signs of resenting this suggestion more keenly than the declaration that he was a thief. Leighton, however, interrupted: he was squinting at the letter that Luke had read in full. "No," he said, "this is real enough. I know the signature." "You know it?" Luke was surprised. "Yes, yes." Leighton read the letter through; then turned upon Rollins with a resumption of his cross-examining manner. "How much d’you want for these?" Rollins beat his hat upon his thigh. "Well," he said, "they ought to be worth a good deal to you, Mr. Leighton." "I’ll give you five hundred dollars." "Mr. Leighton!" Rollins was deprecating. "Five hundred dollars!" "What do you want, then? Speak up." "Five thousand would be nearer value, Mr. Leighton." Luke turned away. This was the part of the business that he loathed. "I’ll give you two thousand and not a cent more," said Leighton. Rollins thought himself now in a commanding position. "I can’t consider that," he said with the nearest approach to firmness he had yet shown. "All right," said Leighton. "Huber!" He handed the letters to Luke. "Put these in your safe while I telephone this fellow’s employer." "Mr. Leighton!" Rollins bounded forward. His fat face worked with rage, disappointment, and fear. "You wouldn’t do that. This is robbery. It’s blackmail! For God’s sake, Mr. Leighton——" "Two thousand dollars," said Leighton. "But think a minute, Mr. Leighton! I’ve been in my job for seven years—worked up to it from office-boy. I could any time have sold tips along the street for twice that money, and yet this is the first time I’ve ever—ever——" "Ever double-crossed your boss. Well, why’d you do it?"