Write me, my darling, the good news of your home-coming, that I may
greet you at the Grand Central. Oh, promise me that you will hasten
home, and name the minute the train is due, that I may be there an
hour early.

'Tis then the promised hour
When torches kindle in the skies
To light thee to thy bower.

Your only, devoted, well-nigh distracted, but fondly true

JAMIE.

Whew! Shade of Morris, forgive me for the base uses to which I
turned your love songs!

When I had finished going over the letters I proceeded to be
extremely wise and diplomatic.

"These letters seem to bear Hosley's name," said I; "they might
help us--in fact, I am glad you took the pains to bring them to me.
Are there any more?" He might not have noticed how anxious I was to
have them all.

"Yes, you have the complete and most damaging documents in the
case," he answered. "They only need your identification, or if
there should be any handwriting for comparison, you can
understand--yes, just so--why, it would be easy without your
evidence. I see you appreciate their enormous value."

This fellow was getting around to talk cash in a way that made me
squirm, and as he eased off again his pain kept him engaged and
gave me a chance to think. When I wrote those letters I thought
they were pretty nice, but I never put any cash value on them, and
never supposed there would be any market for them.

"Mr. Obreeon," said I, "about what would compensate you for your
trouble in gathering up those letters?" I was calm.

"One thousand dollars." And as he said it his pain left him and
shot into me.

I rocked and gripped the chair. I could see there was no use to get
mad and talk loud, for he had me where there was only one move I
could make without getting in check, and that was into my
pocketbook. Besides, if I talked too much he might find where I
came in on the thing.

"Five hundred, cash down, I'll give you," said I, trying to look
disinterested, as if I dealt in autographs and letters of great
men.

"One thousand dollars, hair and all," said he, rubbing his palms in
a net-price manner.

"Hair?"

"Yes; there's a lock of Hosley's hair and some rings--everything is
included in my price."

What was it worth to keep out of the electric chair? That is the
way I figured it; it wasn't so much a question of letters and mere
poetry and hair.

"