d her warmly, and asked what he could do for her.

Mrs. Morton felt confused. Her mission seemed, after all, a strange one
with which to come to a leader of finance.

"I--I am in great trouble, Mr. Stapleton," she began.

"Yes?" He took her hand in his and led her to a chair. "Tell me all
about it."

Mrs. Morton explained the circumstances surrounding the receiving of the
two letters in detail, and then handed the documents to Mr. Stapleton.

"Do you think I had better place the matter in the hands of the postal
authorities?" she said. Mr. Stapleton examined the two letters carefully
then he shook his head.

"No. At least not at present. It seems to me that your daughter may be
in grave danger, and under those circumstances, I think your wisest
course would be to employ a private detective, an investigator of
matters of this character, not only to ferret out those who are
responsible for these threats, but to take steps to protect your
daughter from harm."

"You think, then, that she is really in danger?" Mrs. Morton gasped.

"I do not wish to alarm you, but I very much fear that she is."

"But I don't know any private detectives," Mrs. Morton began.

Stapleton looked up from the letter.

"When I spoke," he said, "I had a certain man in mind. He is not a
detective, in the usual sense of the word. You can find plenty of those,
of course, but, while they are useful enough in the detection of
criminals of the ordinary sort, they would probably have very little
success in an affair such as this. The man I had in mind is a brilliant
criminal investigator, one whose services I have more than once been
obliged to make use of in matters of a personal nature. Some two years
ago, for instance, my child was kidnapped, in Paris, and held for
ransom. The entire police force of the French capital seemed powerless
to discover his whereabouts. At last I called in Richard Duvall, and
within a few days my boy was returned to me, and the criminals who had
abducted him placed under arrest. It was a marvellous, a brilliant piece
of work. I am not likely to forget very soon the mystery of the changing
lights." He paused, and Mrs. Morton spoke up eagerly.

"Give me Mr. Duvall's address," she said, "and I will see him at once."

"That," Mr. Stapleton smiled, "is, of course, the great difficulty.
Duvall, who is married, lives with his wife on their farm near
Washington. They both have plenty of money, and he has practically
retir