“A letter? From Miss Stuart?” he said, eagerly. “I hoped for one, by the pilot.”
He opened it, and after a glance handed it over to Haviland.
It said, only:
My dear Mr. Stone:
Thank you for your belief in me, and forgive me for running away. And, please,—oh, I beg of you, please drop the case entirely. Your further investigation and discovery can only bring sorrow and anguish to my already distracted soul. I have no time to write more, but assume that I have put forth any or every argument that could persuade you, and at once cease all effort to learn who is responsible for the death of my aunt.
Sincerely yours,
Pauline Stuart.
XX
IN THE BOUDOIR
Apparently, Fleming Stone paid little attention to this letter from Pauline. Really, every word engraved itself on his heart, as he read the lines, and when he gave the paper to Gray Haviland, it was only because he knew he would never need to refresh his memory as to the message Pauline had sent him.
Stone also read the letter she had written to Gray, and his deep eyes clouded with pain at some of the lines. But he returned it to Haviland without comment, and then courteously dismissed the pair.
“He’s bothered to death,” said Gray, as they went downstairs.
“So’m I,” responded Anita. “But nobody cares about me, it’s all Pauline,—whether she’s a——”
“Let up on that, ’Nita!” and Gray spoke warningly. “Don’t you call Pauline names in my hearing!”