isten:
here is a note--under the door. Good night, darling! I'm heartbroken."

"Thank God, it's you!" he cried softly. "How I love you, Constance!"

"'Sh! Edith is with me! Oh, I wish it were morning and I could see you.
I have so much to say."

Another querulous voice broke in: "For heaven's sake, Connie, don't
stand here any longer. Our reputations are bad enough as it is. Good
night--Roxbury!" He distinctly heard the heartless Edith giggle. Then
came the soft, quick swish of garments and the nocturnal visitors were
gone. He picked up the envelope and, waiting until they were safely down
the hall, turned on the light.

"Dearest," he read, "it was not my fault and I know it was not yours.
But, oh, you don't know how I suffered all through those hours of
waiting at the cafe. They did not find me until after two. They were
drunk. They tried to explain. What do you think the authorities will do
to me if they find that I gave that horrid man bribe money? Really, I'm
terribly nervous. But he won't dare say anything, will he? He is as
guilty as I, for he took it. He took it knowing that you were free at
the time. But we will talk it over to-morrow. I've just got back to the
hotel. I wouldn't go to bed until Edith brought me up to hear your dear
voice. I am so glad you are not dead. It is impossible to release you
to-night. Those wretches have the key. How I loathe them! Edith says the
hotel is wild with gossip about _everything_ and _everybody_. It's just
awful. Be of good heart, my beloved. I will be your faithful slave until
death. With love and adoration and kisses. Your own Constance.

"P.S. Roxbury has not made a sign, Edith is frantic."

Several floors below the relieved and ecstatic Brock, Mrs. Medcroft was
soon urging her sister to go to bed and let the story go until daylight.
She persisted in telling all that she had done and all that she had
endured.

"We must never let him know that we actually gave that wretch nearly
twenty-five hundred dollars, Edith. He would never forgive us. I admit
that I was a fool and a ninny, so don't tell me I am. I can see by the
way you are looking that you're just crazy to. It's all Roxbury's fault,
anyway. Why should he get up and make a speech in London without letting
us know? Just see how it has placed us! I think Mr. Brock is an angel to
do what he has done for you and Roxbury. Yes, my dear, you will have to
confess that Roxbury is a brute--a perfect brute. I'm sure, if y