“Of course, I am at your orders, Mrs Varian.” Rod gave her his winning smile, “But, at least, let’s think it over a bit.” “No; send the word at once. We can talk it over afterward.” There seemed to be no way out, so Granniss went off to do her bidding. Even then, he had half a mind to pretend to send the word but really to withhold it. On reflection, he concluded he had no right to do this. But he remembered that Minna had not bound him to secrecy, though, of course, it was implied. So with the letters to the Boston papers went also one to Pennington Wise begging him to come at once to investigate the remarkable case of Betty Varian, and telling him frankly of the strange letter just received. That same afternoon a telegram came for Mrs Varian. Granniss opened it, as was his custom, and its contents so surprised him that he nearly succumbed to the temptation to keep it from Mrs Varian. But, he reconsidered, he had no right to presume on his position as confidential secretary, so with grave fears of its effects he handed it to her. “Dear Mother,” it ran; “I am all right, and if you do just as you agree, I will soon be with you again. Please obey implicitly. “Betty.” “From her!” Minna cried, and fainted. Nurse Fletcher soon revived her, but she was in a shaken, nervous state, and could stand no contradiction or disapproval. “Now you see, Rodney,” she cried triumphantly, “it is all right! Here is word from Betty herself—oh, my darling!” and she fell to kissing the yellow paper, as if it were the face of her child. “But, Mrs Varian,” Granniss hesitated to correct her but felt he must, “that may not be from Betty, you know. Anybody could send a telegram signed with Betty’s name.” “Rodney!” Minna’s eyes blazed with anger, “why do you try every way to make me miserable? Why dash every cup of joy from my lips? You seem to hope that we never find Betty! I can’t understand your attitude, but unless you are more helpful,—yes, and more hopeful,—I don’t think we can get along together.” But Granniss knew that he must stand by this distracted woman. Another secretary might have more leniency and less judgment, which would be a bad thing for Minna’s interests. No, even at risk of letting her be imprudent, he must stand by her, and protect her all he could against her own wrong decisions. “Oh, yes, we’ll get along all right, Mrs Varian,” he said, trying to treat the matter lightly. “You can’t get rid of me so easily,—and, too, you know that I want to believe all this quite as much as you do. But you must admit that a telegram is not like a letter. It might be faked.” “Well, this isn’t,” said Minna, contentedly, still caressing the paper missive. “Let’s consider it,” said Rod. “It doesn’t sound to me like Betty’s diction. Would she use the word ‘implicitly’?”