e you a formal receipt
for it in Doctor Wybrow's presence--and I will add any written
pledge that you may require on my part, acting as Mr. Winterfield's
representative and friend. Perhaps you would like a reference as well?"

He made a courteous reply. "A friend of Dr. Wybrow's," he said,
"requires no other reference."

"Excuse me," I persisted. "I had the honor of meeting Doctor Wybrow, for
the first time, yesterday. Permit me to refer you to Lord Loring, who
has long known me as his spiritual director and friend."

This account of myself settled the matter. I drew out the necessary
securities--and I have all the papers lying before me on my desk at this
moment.

You remember how seals were broken, and impressed again, at the Roman
post-office, in the revolutionary days when we were both young men?
Thanks to the knowledge then obtained, the extraordinary events which
once associated Mr. Winterfield and Miss Eyrecourt are at last plainly
revealed to me. Copies of the papers are in my possession, and the
originals are sealed again, with the crest of the proprietor of the
asylum, as if nothing had happened. I make no attempt to excuse myself.
You know our motto:--THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS.

I don't propose to make any premature use of the information which
I have obtained. The first and foremost necessity, as I have already
reminded you, is to give Penrose the undisturbed opportunity of
completing the conversion of Romayne. During this interval, my copies of
the papers are at the disposal of my reverend brethren at headquarters.

*****

THE STOLEN PAPERS.--(COPIES.)

_Number One.--From Emma Winterfield to Bernard Winterfield._

4 Maidwell Buildings, Belhaven.

How shall I address you? Dear Bernard, or Sir? It doesn't matter. I am
going to do one of the few good actions of my life: and familiarities or
formalities matter nothing to a woman who lies on her deathbed.

Yes--I have met with another accident. Shortly after the date of our
separation, you heard, I think, of the fall in the circus that fractured
my skull? On that occasion, a surgical operation, and a bit of silver
plate in place of the bone, put me right again. This time it has
been the kick of a horse, in the stables. Some internal injury is the
consequence. I may die to-morrow, or live till next week. Anyway--the
doctor has confessed it--my time has come.

Mind one thing. The drink--that vile habit which lost me your love and
banished me from