," Virginia answered, a little doubtfully, although in her
heart she understood him very well indeed.

"Miss Longworth," he said, "have you pluck enough to save us all several
millions of dollars, and to make your uncle grateful to you for life? In
other words, will you help me look for that paper?"

"Without my uncle's permission?" she asked.

"Without a permission which he would give you in one moment," Mr. Weiss
declared, "if he was in a fit state to look after his own affairs. Come,
you shall not have to wait until he recovers. For a part of your reward,
at any rate, there is a pearl necklace in Streeter's, which I saw
yesterday marked forty thousand dollars. It shall be yours within half
an hour of the time I get that paper, and I guarantee that your uncle
will give you another like it when he knows what you have done."

Virginia shook her head sorrowfully. Her great eyes seemed full of real
regret.

"Mr. Weiss," she said, "I am too dull and stupid to dare to do things on
my own account. I can only obey, and I am afraid all these beautiful
rewards are not for me. Even if my uncle sends me away when he gets
well, I must do exactly as he told me, no more, nor any less, and one
of those things," she added, turning and pressing the electric bell in
the wall by her side, "was that no one, no one at all, should enter
this room."

Mr. Weiss stood quite still. He seemed to be thinking, but Virginia
could see that his hands were tightly clenched, and the bones of his
long sinewy fingers were standing out, straining against the flesh.

"I am disappointed in you, Miss Longworth," he said. "You have a great
opportunity. It need not be only a matter of the necklace--"

She held out her hands.

"You mustn't!" she begged. "I am too frightened of my uncle."

Then she turned suddenly and opened the door to the servant, whose
approaching footsteps she had heard.

"Will you please show Mr. Weiss out?" she said. "He is in rather a
hurry."

Mr. Weiss went without a word.

CHAPTER VII

A PROFESSIONAL BURGLAR

There were three men in New York that day, who, although they occupied
their accustomed table, the best in one of its most exclusive clubs, and
although their luncheon was chosen with the usual care, were never
really conscious of what they were eating. Weiss was one, John Bardsley
another, and Higgins, the railway man, the third. They sat in a corner,
from which their conversation could not be overheard; a