e of winning the two hundred pounds reward offered for his
capture.

The goodness of God occasionally takes a whimsical form.

A month later I received a letter from George, written in cipher, which I
here give translated:--

"DEAR FRIEND:

"I reached Paris three weeks ago and was received by Monsieur Le G.
most graciously. Although I cannot give definite news, I hope for great
improvement in my fortune soon, and perhaps may write you more fully
thereof before the week is spent.

"Good fortune has but one meaning for me, of which you already know. I
beg you to say to one that a letter from her hand would give me greater
joy than she can know, and that I would now send one to her if I felt
safe in so doing. Please send all letters in cipher, addressed: 'Monsieur
le Blanc, in care of 'Sieur de Catanet, at the sign of the Double Arrow
on the Rue St. Antoine, counting nine doors from the street corner
nearest the Bastile.'

"Your friend,

"LE BLANC."

When George wrote that he hoped for good fortune, I knew he had
sound reason to expect it, for he was one who never permitted a mere
possibility to take the form of hope, nor hope, however assuring, to
take the aspect of certainty. Knowing this to be true, I found great
joy in the letter, and when I told Frances, she did not pause even to
give me one smile of thanks, but broke into a flood of tears and seemed
to take great happiness in her tribulation.

I told Frances that we should answer the letter at once, and suggested
that she have hers ready in my hands the following day, if she wished to
write one. I also suggested that we meet in Bettina's parlor, where
Frances's letter could be rewritten in cipher. We trusted Bettina as we
trusted ourselves, and when we told her the good news, she clapped her
hands for joy, laughing, yet ready to weep, and was as happy as even she
could be, which was very happy indeed.

After we had talked, laughed, and cried a reasonable time in Betty's
parlor, Frances handed me her letter, which was a bulky document, well
taped and waxed.

"It will require a week for me to translate this," I remarked, weighing
the letter in my hand.

"What do you mean by translating it?" she asked in surprise.

"I must write it out in cipher. Hamilton directed that all letters should
be sent in that form," I answered, amused at her alarm.

"No, no!" she cried, snatching the letter from me, pressing it to her
breast and blushing to her ears. "You s