d
her face as if to hide the emotions written thereon.

"Your brother expected Mr. Whitmore to rescue him?" persisted Britz.

"Yes," she acknowledged.

"And Mr. Whitmore's death leaves him in a sad predicament?"

"Ruin is inevitable," she admitted.

"Which makes it clear that it was to Mr. Ward's interest as well as your
own to find Mr. Whitmore alive?"

"Precisely," replied she. "His death was a terrible blow to us."

Britz saw the situation clearly. Ward, rendered desperate by the
impending ruin, had hoped that Whitmore would come to his rescue. But
the latter's death had destroyed all hope of aid from that direction.
The letter, far from furnishing incriminating evidence against anyone,
clearly established Ward's and Mrs. Collins's interest in keeping
Whitmore alive. Nevertheless Britz decided to retain the note on the
bare chance that subsequent developments might give it a changed aspect.

Mrs. Collins, divining with the sure instinct of a woman, the obvious
conclusion which the detective had drawn from the letter, ventured
another attempt to gain possession of it.

"Now that you are convinced that it has no bearing on Mr. Whitmore's
death, may I have it?" she asked.

"Why are you so anxious to obtain it?" retorted Britz.

"Because its possession by someone would be an endless source of
embarrassment to me," answered she.

She spoke as one engaged in a controversy of minor significance. But it
was plain that exhaustion was swiftly overtaking her, that her bruised
senses were near the end of their endurance.

"You need fear no uneasiness from the letter while it is in my
possession," the detective said reassuringly.

She accepted the statement as a final refusal to surrender the missive,
and, consulting the small watch set in her black leather purse, noted
with a frightened gasp that it was two o'clock.

"Where is Mr. Beard?" she asked, as if suddenly recalling his absence.

"He is under arrest," answered Britz in even voice.

Despite the soothing quality which he tried to inject into his tone, she
started like a frightened deer.

"Arrest!" she echoed. "Then he didn't deliver--the woman, Julia Strong,
didn't get the message?"

She shivered, as the chill breath of a new fear stole over her.

"Julia Strong is dead," said Britz, in the same calm, matter-of-fact
voice.

But to the woman the words came like a destructive avalanche. She buried
her face in her hands, while her frame shook with suc