he
precautions taken by Constance, neither party knew where the other was.
Yet they were in instant touch, not by the ear alone, but by
handwriting itself.

He placed the stylus on the paper. She had already written in the
number of the check, the date, the bank, the amount, and the payee,
Marshall Taylor. Hastily Graeme signed it, as though in fear that they
might rescind their action before he could finish.

"Now the securities," she said. "I have withdrawn already the amount we
have made trading--it is a substantial sum. Write out an order to the
Safe Deposit Company to deliver the key and the rest of the contents of
the box to Taylor. I have fixed it with them after a special interview
this morning. They understand."

Again Graeme wrote, feverishly.

"I--we--are entirely free from prosecution of any kind?" he asked
eagerly.

"Yes," Constance murmured, with just a catch in her throat, as now that
the excitement was over, she realized that he was free, independent of
her again.

The telautograph had stopped. No, it was starting again. Had there been
a slip! Was the dream at last to turn to ashes? They watched anxiously.

"Mrs. Dunlap," the words unfolded, "I take my hat off to you. You have
put it across again.

"DRUMMOND."

Constance read it with a sense of overwhelming relief. It was a
magnanimous thing in Drummond. Almost she forgave him for many of the
bitter hours he had caused in the discharge of his duty.

As they looked at the writing they realized its import. The detective
had abandoned the long search. It was as though he had put his "O.K."
on the agreement.

"We are no longer fugitives!" exclaimed Graeme, drawing in a breath
that told of the weight lifted from him.

For an instant he looked down into her upturned face and read the
conflict that was going on in her. She did not turn away, as she had
before. It flashed over him that once, not long ago, she had talked in
a moment of confidence of the loneliness she had felt since she had
embarked as the rescuer of amateur criminals.

Graeme bent down and took her hand, as he had the first night when they
had entered their strange partnership.

"Never--never can I begin to pay you what I owe," he said huskily, his
face near hers.

He felt her warm breath almost on his cheek, saw the quick color come
into her face, her breast rise and fall with suppressed emotion. Their
eyes met.

"You need not pay," she whispered. "I am yours."

T