"It is all incorporated in the veining of the wings and shading of the body," he told her. "No one would understand it save myself, for it is so much a matter of lines and scale and angles. But it is all there, I assure you, at least, in its cruder form. Until the machine was completed, I had to have this sketch constantly where I could refer to it, at times I even had to carry it about with me. So you see how important it was, considering the abominable spy-system by which we are surrounded, that it should appear only the innocent thing it seemed.
"Well, now you know the history of the Crimson Patch. It has certainly had, as they say, a checkered career! I would like to keep it always as an interesting souvenir, but it is too dangerous to have about, and the time of its usefulness is past. Only a few days ago, at the place where we are to manufacture this device, it was tried out and proved that it will be a practical success after some necessary alterations are made. Look your last on it, for in a few minutes its existence will be over!"
He held it up before her eyes a moment. Then, slipping her off his knee, he walked over to the fireplace, where a big log was still smouldering. Stirring the fire into a blaze, he tore the sketch into small bits and dropped the fluttering pieces into the flames. Together they watched while the charred fragments turned brown, curled over, blazed for a moment and shriveled into a gray crisp.
Five minutes later the fire died down. The big log rolled over, burying the ashes under its bulk. And so vanished the last trace of the mysterious Crimson Patch.
THE END
By AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SEVEN KEYHOLES
BLUEBONNET BEND
THE BOARDED-UP HOUSE
THE CRIMSON PATCH