at it be hedged
around with the greatest secrecy.

When Olive retired to her plain but comfortable cot she was tired and
weak from the reaction of her restrained emotions, but she did not
immediately go to sleep for thinking that she had killed a man. And yet
for this killing there was not in this girl's mind one atom of regret.
She was so grateful that she had been there, and had been enabled to do
it. She had seen her uncle almost at his last gasp, and she had saved
him from making that last gasp. Moreover, she had saved the life of the
man who had saved the most important life in the land. She knew the face
of the gentleman in the barouche who sat on the side nearest her; she
knew what her uncle had done, and she was proud of him; she knew what
she had done for him; and she regarded the black-haired man with the
hairy hands no more than she would have regarded a wild beast who had
suddenly sprung upon them. She thought of him, of course, with horror,
but her feelings of thankfulness for her uncle's safety were far too
strong. At last her grateful heart closed her eyes, and let her rest.

There were no letters found on the body of the black-haired man which
gave any clue to his name; but there were papers which showed that he
was from southern France; that he was an anarchist; that he was in this
country upon a mission; and that he had been for two weeks in
Washington, waiting for an opportunity to fulfil that mission. Which
opportunity had at last shown itself in front of him just as Captain
John Asher rushed up behind him.

This information was so important that extraordinary methods were
pursued. Communications were immediately made with the State Department,
and with the higher police authorities; and it was quickly determined
that, whatever else might be done, the strictest secrecy must be
enforced. The coroner's jury was carefully selected and earnestly
admonished; and, early the next morning, when the captain and Olive were
required to testify before it, they were made to understand how
absolutely necessary it was they should say nothing except to answer the
questions which were asked them. The coroner was eminently discreet in
regard to his questions; and the verdict was that Olive was acting in
her own defense as well as that of her uncle when she shot his
assailant.

Among the officials whose positions enabled them to know all these
astonishing occurrences it was unanimously agreed that, so far as
possi