"With fondest love to you, my darling, and to my baby and Katherine, I am, "Your own loving wife, "FLEDRA." The governor read and reread the letter, especially the part in which his wife implored him to aid Horace Shellington. He laid it down with a sigh. He well knew that Fledra's heart was tender toward all little ones since the disappearance of her own. All hope that he would ever see his twin children had left him years before, and now, for some moments, with his hand on the envelop, his mind wandered into hidden places, where he saw a boy and a girl growing to manhood and womanhood, and he groaned deeply. * * * * * Later, when Everett Brimbecomb was ushered into his office at the capital, the governor was primed with the sympathy that he had gathered from his wife's letter. "This is something of a surprise, my dear boy," he said. "I did not know you were coming to Albany so soon." "I came with a purpose," replied Everett; "for, as you know, my father is away, and I need your advice in something." Vandecar waited for his visitor to proceed. "Do you see any reason," Everett stammered, "why two young lawyers should not be friends, even if they have to take opposite sides in a lawsuit?" "No," replied the governor slowly. "Then I'll lay the whole thing before you, and let you tell me what you think of it." "Have a cigar while we talk," broke in Vandecar, offering Everett his case. In silence they began to smoke, and both remained quiet until the governor said: "Now, explain it to me, please." Everett began the story of the children's running away, as the squatter had told it to him, and of their coming to Horace. He did not forget to add that he believed Shellington had lied to him the night he came into the dining-room and discovered Fledra and Floyd with the two little animals. When a shade passed over the governor's face, Everett quickly noted that he had made a mistake in the drawing of conclusions. "Don't be too hasty, Everett," cautioned Vandecar, shaking an ash deliberately from his cigar. "Horace is the soul of truth. If he did not tell it to you, he had good reasons." Brimbecomb frowned. He could have bitten his tongue out for making that misstep. "That's so," he admitted. "But, ever since last September, Horace, and I might say Ann, too, have drawn more and more away from me. For my part, I see no good that can come of their relations with squatters." "It was the most charitable act I have ever heard of," replied Vandecar. "But you are straying from the case. Do I understand that you have taken up the side of the father?" "Yes." "And that you intend to make a move to return his children to him?" "Yes." "Why?"