.
One thing I'm sure of. He'll run down whoever was responsible for
that explosion, and he'll do for him, whoever he is, if it costs one
million to get a conviction. I wouldn't like to be the fellow!'

'I can understand wishing to be revenged for the death of one's only
child,' said the lady thoughtfully. 'Cannot you?'

The American turned his hard face to her.

'Yes,' he said, 'I can. It's only human, after all.'

She sighed and looked into the fire. She was married, but she was
childless, and that was a constant regret to her. Mr. Van Torp knew it
and understood.

'To change the subject,' he said cheerfully, 'I suppose you need
money, don't you?'

'Oh yes! Indeed I do!'

Her momentary sadness had already disappeared, and there was almost a
ripple in her tone again as she answered.

'How much?' asked the millionaire smiling.

She shook her head and smiled too; and as she met his eyes she
settled herself and leaned far back in the shabby easy-chair. She was
wonderfully graceful and good to look at in her easy attitude.

'I'm afraid to tell you how much!' She shook her head again, as she
answered.

'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp in an encouraging tone, 'I've brought some
cash in my pocket, and if it isn't enough I'll get you some more
to-morrow. But I won't give you a cheque. It's too compromising. I
thought of that before I left New York, so I brought some English
notes from there.'

'How thoughtful you always are for me!'

'It's not much to do for a woman one likes. But I'm sorry if I've
brought too little. Here it is, anyway.'

He produced a large and well-worn pocket-book, and took from it a
small envelope, which he handed to her.

'Tell me how much more you'll need,' he said, 'and I'll give it to
you to-morrow. I'll put the notes between the pages of a new book and
leave it at your door. He wouldn't open a package that was addressed
to you from a bookseller's, would he?'

'No,' answered the lady, her expression changing a little, 'I think he
draws the line at the bookseller.'

'You see, this was meant for you,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'There are your
initials on it.'

She glanced at the envelope, and saw that it was marked in pencil with
the letters M.L. in one corner.

'Thank you,' she said, but she did not open it.

'You'd better count the notes,' suggested the millionaire. 'I'm open
to making mistakes myself.'

The lady took from the envelope a thin flat package of new Bank of
England notes, f