"Madam, I beg a thousand pardons," Millar said suavely. "My only excuse
is that some letters are better undelivered."

He drew from the inner pocket of his coat a letter, and with a smile and
a sweeping bow handed it to Karl.

"However, I can now make reparation," he said.

Karl took the letter, looking wonderingly from Olga to Millar. He held
it an instant in his hand and was about to open it, when Olga cried:

"Karl, tear the letter up."

Karl instantly obeyed her, tearing the envelope into small pieces.

"Now burn it," Olga said.

He stepped over to the fireplace and threw the bits of paper on the
glowing coals. They started up in a little flame and were quickly
reduced to ashes.

Olga was terrified at the trick Millar had played upon her and at its
results. She looked in fear from him to Karl.

"Who is this man?" she asked.

Karl could not answer her. The same question was echoing in his heart.

Who was this man, this personification of evil? Ever there were his
insidious wiles to compromise, cajole, trick and betray them. He could
not tell. He only knew that he loathed him and that he would drive him
out.

"Are you going now?" he demanded, as Millar stood looking at them with
his evil smile.

Millar took the question in the most natural way, disregarding the
purposely offensive tone in which Karl spoke.

"Yes, I am; I must," he said, half regretfully. "My train leaves in half
an hour. Again permit me to beg a thousand pardons. Could I have
foreseen the anguish that was to follow my failure to deliver madam's
letter, nothing in the world could have----"

Karl interrupted him rudely, determined that he should not beguile them
again and that he should not speak of Olga or the letter as a thing of
importance.

"You should know that the letter contained only a conventional message,"
he said.

Millar looked at Olga, and his smile grew broad as she hung her head and
blushed. Who should know better than he the confession which she had
written and which was now destroyed?

"It was quite conventional, I am sure," he said cynically.

"You will miss your train," Karl said with studied insolence. "Heinrich,
help the doctor on with his coat."

"A thousand thanks," the imperturbable Millar said. "Madam, good-by. And
once more I beg a thousand pardons."

Neither Olga nor Karl spoke to him as he walked to the door, looked back
at them, bowed low again and chuckled as the door closed after him.

Olga tur