“It was given me at the station by a stranger and I was paid well to deliver it to you,” the rider answered simply.
“There will be no answer,” Mason said shortly, dismissing him.
He kept turning the envelope over in his hand. On one corner there was drawn the picture of a butterfly, and it puzzled him. Hunting up the Marshal he turned the message over to him.
The latter read it, then gave a long whistle.
“So, he has shown his hand at last,” was his comment; “whew! a cool million he wants. Modest in his demands, isn’t he?”
“What puzzles me,” Mason replied, “is what that butterfly means on the corner of the envelope.”
The Marshal looked it over carefully.
“Just merely the whim of a girl,” he said at length.
“I don’t believe it,” Mason protested warmly. “Josephine drew that picture on there for a purpose, and I would stake my life on it.”
“There may be a reason for the picture at that,” the Marshal replied thoughtfully; “well, anyway, the counterfeiter has shown his hand, and now I can work with light ahead.”