"He seems to have changed his mind," Brierly went on, "and bids me come up with Myers."
"To-day?" The work fell from her hands.
"Now. In half an hour."
"But Robert, after all his caution!"
"Let me read the note, dear," he said, unfolding the sheet he had held in his hand. "It is very brief and pointed:
"'Dear Brierly,—Come up with Myers, and be sure that you are not observed when you enter Haynes' office. He will know what to do with you. If I have not been an awful bungler—and I don't think I have this time—you will stand a free man to-night, able to go up and down the earth without menace from the assassin's knife, and will have come into your own, which means a fortune.
"'Ferrars.'"
"Ruth," he spoke softly, "Do you know what that means?"
"Better than you do, perhaps." She spoke hurriedly, as if to gain time, and her cheeks were already aflame. "Your mind was so entirely set upon finding Charlie's murderer, Rob, that they thought it best not to risk a new anxiety by telling you too much about the other; besides, there could be nothing certain, you know, until Mr. Myers had investigated. You had a hint of it."
"Oh, to be sure. And I have not been quite blind to their kindly cunning. Will it be a very great fortune, Ruthie?" He caught her hand, and held it fast.