nowing exactly what I ought to do. I have felt like a rat skulking in
a hole. I believed what those men told me; they convinced me with
proofs I could not ignore, but they must have lied. In some details,
at least, they must have deceived. Now would it be possible for Philip
Henley to be in a penitentiary convicted of crime?"

"It would not be," she returned firmly. "There was no time after I
left him for an arrest and conviction. That alone is sufficient to
convince me of fraud and conspiracy. More than that, Philip Henley was
not one to commit a crime of that nature, and there was no reason why
he should. His remittances were amply sufficient. Under the influence
of liquor he might commit assault, or even murder, but never forgery."

"Then what do you think has occurred?"

"Either one of two things," she said soberly. "He is dead, or
helplessly in the power of those men who sent you here. There is no
other conclusion possible. They had possession of his papers--even his
private memoranda. They knew more of conditions here than I had ever
been told. In my judgment, he is dead. Otherwise I cannot conceive it
possible they would dare attempt to carry out such a conspiracy. The
very boldness of their plan convinces me they believed no one lived to
expose them. They knew he was dead, and believed, if I still lived,
that I knew nothing of this inheritance. The telegram announcing the
Judge's death I never saw. It must have arrived while Philip was too
intoxicated to grasp its meaning."

"You know nothing then of the two men, Neale and Vail?"

"No; there is a Justus C. Vail, a lawyer in the city. I found the name
in the directory, and called at his office. He was away making
political speeches; had been gone two weeks."

"Then the fellow assumed that name, thinking I might be familiar with
it, and thus be impressed with the legality of the transaction. As to
Neale, I will go to the courthouse in this county, and find out about
him. Only first of all we must understand and trust each other. We
have got some shrewd villains to fight, men capable of resorting to
desperate measures. You have told me the whole truth about yourself
now?"

"Absolutely, yes. I told you the truth before, except only my real
name. I was married to Philip Henley. Wait, here is my marriage
certificate; I have always kept it with me, for I have been afraid of
him almost from the first. I gave you the name Bernard unthi