azed at each
other long and hard. It was the lawyer who first spoke.

"I think that we should have no further secrets between us," said he.
"Here is Mrs. Ransom's will. There is a name mentioned in it which I do
not know. Perhaps you do." Here he laid the document on the table.

Mr. Ransom eyed it but did not take it up. Instead, he drew a crumpled
paper from his own pocket and, handing it to the lawyer, said: "First,
I should like you to read the letter which she left behind for me. My
feelings as a husband would lead me to hold it as a sacred legacy from
all eyes but my own; but there is a mystery hidden in it, a mystery which
I must penetrate, and you are the only man who can assist me in doing
so."

The lawyer, lowering his eyes to hide their own suspicious glint, opened
the paper, and carefully read these lines:

"Forgive. My troubles are too much for me. I'm going to a place of
rest, the only place and the only rest possible to one in my position.
I don't blame anybody. Least of all do I blame Anitra. It was not her
fault that she was brought up rudely, or that she knows no restraint
in love or in hate. Be kind to her for my sake, and if any one else
claims her or offers to take her from you, resist them. I give her
entirely to you. It's a more priceless gift than you think; much more
priceless than the one which I take from you by my death. I could
never have been happy with you; you could never have been happy with
me. Fate stood between us; a darker and more inexorable fate than you,
in your kindly experience of life, could imagine. Else, why do I
plunge to my death with your ring on my finger and your love in my
heart?

"Georgian."

"Ravings?" questioned Ransom hoarsely, as Mr. Harper's eyes rose again to
his face.

"It would seem so," assented the lawyer. "Yet there is intelligence in
all the lines. And the will--read the will. There is no lack of
intelligent purpose there; little as it accords with the feeling she
exhibits here for her sister. She leaves her nothing; and does not even
mention her name. Her personal belongings she bequeaths to you; but her
realty, which comprises the bulk of her property I believe, she divides,
somewhat unequally I own, between you and a man named Auchincloss. It
is he I want to ask you about. Have you ever heard her speak of him?"

"Josiah Auchincloss of St. Louis, Missouri," read Mr. Ransom. "No, the
name is new to me. Didn'