ng a testimonial. Two others were
from ungrammatical school girls, asking her how they should proceed, in
order to become motion picture stars. Another was an advertisement of a
new automobile. The fifth requested an autographed picture of herself.
She swept the five over the edge of the table with a sigh of relief. How
stupid of all these people, she thought, to take up their time, and her
own, so uselessly.

The sixth letter, from its external appearance, might readily have been
of no greater interest than the other five, and yet, something
intangible about it caused her to pause for a moment before inserting
the point of the knife beneath the flap of the envelope. It was a large
envelope, square, formal-looking. The address upon it was typewritten.
Unlike the majority of the other letters, forwarded from the studio, it
bore the street and number of the apartment house in which she lived.
The envelope was postmarked New York, and was sealed with a splotch of
black sealing wax, which, however, contained the imprint of no monogram
or seal, but was crossed both vertically and horizontally by a series of
fine parallel lines, dividing its surface into minute squares.

Ruth observed these several peculiarities of the letter she was about to
open, with growing interest. The usual run of her correspondence was so
dull and uninteresting that anything out of the ordinary was apt to
attract her attention. Slipping the ivory blade of the paper knife
quickly beneath the flap of the envelope, she cut it open.

The letter within, written on the same heavy paper as that composing the
envelope, contained but three typewritten lines. It was not these,
however, that instantly attracted Ruth's attention, but the signature
appended to them. This signature did not consist of a name, but of an
astonishing seal, imprinted upon a bit of the same black sealing wax
with which the envelope had been fastened. And the device, as Ruth bent
over it to make out its clearcut but rather fine lines, filled her with
a sudden and overwhelming dismay.

It was a grinning death's head, about half an inch in width, with
eye-sockets staring vacantly, and grisly mouth gaping in a wide and
horrible smile, made the more horrible by the two rows of protruding
teeth. The girl almost dropped the letter, as full realization of the
significance of the design swept over her.

Hastily she recovered herself, and with trembling fingers raised the
letter from her lap.