“Yes.”
“And be sure and not mention it to my husband. You receive all the mail that comes to the house, and when you find one marked San Bernardino you will know it is from my father.”
“San Bernardino,” Paul repeated.
“Yes; don’t forget. If it comes soon, bring it to the Grand Central and see if I am there; if I am not, do as I have directed you. Will you promise me this, and keep it a secret?”
“I will promise to do the business according to your orders.”
“Thank you, Paul. If I can ever serve you in any way I will do so.”
Paul bowed and left the room. His brain was very busy with several plans which he was working up, and he must have time to calculate, for though they might not one of them be of any importance, they were weighty enough for his young brain to master, and he must be by himself. He had some work to do for his employer, an errand or two for Irene, a piece of work of his own that must be done, and then he would take time to think.
Two days later Paul received the letter of which Irene had spoken, and accordingly made haste to fulfill his promise. He reached the hotel, and stepping in, sought Irene and delivered the letter. She did not seem at all anxious that Paul should stay, but said hurriedly: “Thank you, Paul; I may write you some day and perhaps ask another favor of you.”
Then she closed the massive door and Paul was left standing alone. He entered the street thinking that it was all very strange, and there must be something about Irene’s intentions that were highly improper. He had in his possession another letter which Irene had given him to deliver to Scott, and to-day he must do that errand. He wondered if the letter contained anything unpleasant.