me, I am deeply affected by it. I shall
never forget what you have done."

"Do not speak of it, dear Miss Lawton. I only wish for your sake that
your poor father had heeded poorer heads than his, but it is too late
to speak of that now. We will do all in our power to aid you, rest
assured of that. Should you require anything, you have only to call
upon Mr. Rockamore, Mr. Carlis or myself."

When he had bowed himself out, Anita flew to the table, seized the
duplicate of the mortgage which he had given her, and slipped it
between the pages of a book lying there. Then she went directly to her
dressing-room where on a little stand near her bed reposed a telephone
instrument which had not been there three days previously.

"Grosvenor 0760," she demanded, and when a voice replied to her at the
other end of the wire, she asked querulously, "Is not my new gown
ready yet? If it is, will you kindly send it over at once? I have also
found your last quarterly bill, and I think there is something wrong
with it. I will send it back by the messenger, who brings my gown.
Thank you; good-by."

She took an envelope from the desk and returning to the drawing-room
slipped the duplicate mortgage within it and sealed it carefully.

When, a few minutes later, a tall, dark, stolid-faced young man
appeared, with a large dressmaker's box, she placed the envelope in
his hand.

"For Mr. Blaine," she whispered. "See that it reaches him immediately."

A half hour afterward, Ramon Hamilton went to the telephone in his
office, and heard the detective's voice over the wire.

"Mr. Hamilton, have you among the letters and documents at your office
the signature of the person we were discussing the other day?"

"Why, yes, I think so. I will look and see. If I have do you wish me
to send it around to you?"

"No, thank you. A messenger boy will call for it in a few minutes."

Wondering, Ramon Hamilton shuffled hastily through the paper in the
pigeon-holes of his desk until he came to a letter from Pennington
Lawton. He carefully tore off the signature, and when the messenger
boy appeared, gave it to him. He would not have been so puzzled, had
he seen the great Henry Blaine, when a few minutes had elapsed, seated
before the desk in his office, comparing the signature of the torn
slip which he had sent with that affixed to the duplicate mortgage.

A long, close, breathless scrutiny, with the most powerful magnifying
glasses, and the detective jum