retly exulted. "Leah is now on her way to meet me! And then all
the old scores will be soon settled!"

The Hungarian witch, patient in captivity, breathlessly waited
for Randall Clayton's coming, still deceived by the false telegram.

But, as Alice Worthington whispered her last secret instructions to
Atwater, sailing on the morrow, her heart was light, for she knew
her father, though stained with greed, had been guiltless of Clayton's
blood. "I will give anything on earth to the man who clears Randall
Clayton's memory," said the heiress. "Don't promise too much, Miss
Alice," cried Atwater, as he kissed her hand. "I will do my duty!"

As the carriage drove away, she watched him from the window. Their
eyes met, and she turned away, with sudden blushes.

CHAPTER XIV.

IRMA GLUYAS.

It was four days after the sailing of the secret mission of
justice when Witherspoon said adieu to Miss Alice Worthington at
the Forty-second Street station. With a wise forethought, the young
lawyer had succeeded in his innocent ruse to distract attention.

Mr. Lemuel Boardman not only called the young heiress back to
Detroit, for the probate of her father's will, but sent on his wife
as a courteous convoy to make sure of the girl wife's acquiescence.

It was none too soon. For a haggard anxiety now drew lines upon the
heiress' fair brow. News from the pursuers could only be expected
in a fortnight, and Witherspoon feared the strain of a momentous
secret upon the young beauty's nerves. Her soul longed for Randall
Clayton's complete vindication. "One hint, and Ferris would take
flight," mused Jack. "And if there were accomplices, they are surely
watching her every movement."

And yet it was an ordeal, this parting. For the hundredth time,
Witherspoon promised to come by the first train to Detroit with the
tidings of the secret quest, and a score of times he was forced
to deny Alice Worthington's tearful pleading. "Let me know to
whom I can make restitution," she cried. "This will--who has it?
The beneficiary may sorely need poor Randall's strangely withheld
fortune!"

"Only when justice is done will that claimant appear," firmly
answered Witherspoon. "You trust me now with the handling of your
fortune! Trust me yet a little longer with that secret. I will
telegraph you of the success or failure of our expedition.

"And then all will be made plain to you when Atwater returns. There
must be no failure of justice. W