Trafford was silent for a few minutes, and then said: “Don’t hope. They’re not destroyed. The man who committed murder to get them, will not part with its price so easily. The man who holds papers that would ruin Governor Matthewson, his sons, Charles and Frank Hunter, and the Lord knows who else, knows that those papers would be his surest means of escape, if his identity was discovered. Those papers are in existence;” and he added to himself, “if I can’t convict without them, I won’t get out of the next assault so easy.” CHAPTER XVII The Story of the Papers Trafford went back to Millbank more seriously alarmed than at any time in his whole professional career. Matthewson would unquestionably inform the others that he had not the papers; and as certainly warn them he was after them, with the determination to secure them. It was well within reason that they would regard it as safer that they remained in the hands of a murderer whom they protected, than that they should fall into those of a detective, who would use them to convict and thus make them public. He felt that he must act promptly and energetically and bring to his aid every influence possible. Now, however, there was another matter tugging at him. Few men in Maine ever attained to the possession of a hundred thousand dollars. The income on such a sum would equal his average yearly earnings. He believed that if he could put his hands on the papers, they would yield him that sum or more. If he was in danger, he had but to let it be known in a certain quarter that on obtaining these papers, he would deliver them intact, and the danger disappeared. He was satisfied that the man who made public the facts relating to Range 16 scandal would never live to see the result. He was satisfied that if the papers were once located in any person’s possession, there would now be no further time wasted in negotiation, as there had been with Wing; but that effective steps would be taken to prevent their publicity. On arriving at Millbank, Trafford waited only to receive the report of his assistant, who had been left on guard, and then went at once to the Parlin homestead. He found Mrs. Parlin showing marks of the strain upon her of the last few weeks. Life had brought her many sorrows, and Wing’s tragic death had seemingly broken the last tie of joy. Trafford’s feverish impatience, rather than the trained restraint of his profession, spoke in the haste he showed to get at real issues. “Mrs. Parlin,” he began, as soon as formal greetings were over, “what can you tell me of the Range 16 affair and the papers relating thereto?” To his surprise Mrs. Parlin grew suddenly white and seemed on the point of fainting. He turned to her assistance, but by a strong effort she recovered a part of her usual self-possession, though the colour did not come back to her cheeks. “Nothing,” she said. “It is a matter on which I can’t talk. You must not; you shall not torture me with it.”