wrote the
drivel you dare to designate as letters. It was concocted at Police
Headquarters. They made me tell my story and then they found some one
who could wield the poetic pen. I'm obliged to them for the confidence
they show in my credulity. I credit Miss Challoner with such words as
have been given me to read here to-day? I knew the lady, and I know
myself. Nothing that passed between us, not an event in which we
were both concerned, has been forgotten by me, and no feature of our
intercourse fits the language you have ascribed to her. On the contrary,
there is a lamentable contradiction between facts as they were and the
fancies you have made her indulge in. And this, as you must acknowledge,
not only proves their falsity, but exonerates Miss Challoner from all
possible charge of sentimentality."

"Yet she certainly wrote those letters. We had them from Mr. Challoner.
The woman who brought them was really her maid. We have not deceived you
in this."

"I do not believe you."

It was not offensively said; but the conviction it expressed was
absolute. Sweetwater recognised the tone, as one of truth, and inwardly
laid down his arms. He could never like the man; there was too much
iron in his fibre; but he had to acknowledge that as a foe he was
invulnerable and therefore admirable to one who had the good sense to
appreciate him.

"I do not want to believe you." Thus did Brotherson supplement his
former sentence. "For if I were to attribute those letters to her, I
should have to acknowledge that they were written to another man than
myself. And this would be anything but agreeable to me. Now I am going
to my room and to my work. You may spend the rest of the evening or the
whole night, if you will, listening at that hole. As heretofore, the
labour will be all yours, and the indifference mine."

With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a smile,
he nodded and left the room.

XXI. A CHANGE

"It's all up. I'm beaten on my own ground." Thus confessed Sweetwater,
in great dejection, to himself. "But I'm going to take advantage of
the permission he's just given me and continue the listening act. Just
because he told me to and just because he thinks I won't. I'm sure
it's no worse than to spend hours of restless tossing in bed, trying to
sleep."

But our young detective did neither.

As he was putting his supper dishes away, a messenger boy knocked at his
door and handed him a note. It