less." And she got up and made a careful inspection of the case.

Simpkins, rather crestfallen, went back to his desk and began to address
circulars, his brain busy with the shadow which had crept into it. But
there was nothing to make it more tangible, everything to dispel it,
and he was forced to own as much. "It's a lovely little cozy corner,"
was his final conclusion; "but keep out of it, Simp., old boy. These
mechanical huggers are great stuff, but they're too strong for a fellow
that's been raised on Boston girls."

[Illustration]

[Illustration ]

V

Mrs. Athelstone was not in the office when he came down the next
day--she had gone to Washington on the Society's affairs, Brander
said--and so he moped about, finding the place dreary without her
brightening presence. In fact, when Brander went out, he slipped into
the sunlit ante-chamber, for companionship, he told himself; but in his
heart he knew that he did not want to be alone with that thing behind
the altar. He had satisfactorily explained its mechanism to himself, but
there was something else about it which he could not explain.

Naylor had telegraphed that very morning: "Get story. Come home. What do
you think you're doing?" and he tried to make up his mind to end the
whole affair by taking the night train to Boston. But he hated to go
back empty-handed from a four days' assignment. Besides, though he knew
himself a fool for it, he wanted to see Mrs. Athelstone once more.

So it happened that he was lingering on in the outer office when the
postman threw the afternoon mail on the desk. Simpkins was alone at the
moment, and he ran over the letters carelessly until he came to one
addressed to Brander in Mrs. Athelstone's writing. The blue card of the
palace car company was in a corner of the envelope.

"Why the deuce is she writing that skunk before she's well out of town?"
he thought, scanning the envelope with jealous eyes. Then he held it up
to the light, but the thick paper told nothing of what was within.
Frowning, he laid the letter down, fingered it, withdrew his itching
hand, hesitated, and finally put it in his pocket.

Simpkins went straight from the office to his hotel, for, though he
told himself that the letter contained some instructions which Mrs.
Athelstone had forgotten to give Brander before leaving, he was anxious
to see just how those instructions were worded. Alone in his little
room, he ripped open the letter and