"Is there no signature?" asked Miss March.
"None, but there can be no doubt as to the identity of the writer."
"Of course not."
"I don't want to alarm you, my dear, but you ought to be very careful."
"I shall be."
Al laughed.
"I don't think there is much danger," he said. "That letter sounds like an extract from a sensational novel. A barking dog never bites, you know."
"I don't know anything of the sort," returned Mr. Wattles. "Some barking dogs do bite; and this one, as you have reason to know yourself, has sharp teeth. Well, just let me lay my hands on him and I'll settle him in short order."
"What will you do?" smiled Al.
"First, as I said before, I'll give him a sound thrashing. Oh, you may laugh, but I can do it, if I am not a boy. And then I'll hand him over to the authorities. By Jove! I had no idea that the fellow was such a scoundrel when he was in my employ, or I wouldn't have kept him an hour. But now I really must be off. Do your best to-night, Miss March; you'll have one of the biggest houses of the season—thanks to the exertions of that sharp young brother of yours."