The Man in Lower Ten

by Mary Roberts Rinehart

“Well, it was this way: of course, I did not know your name, Mr. Blakeley. The telegram said, ‘Man with papers in lower ten, car seven,” and after I had made what I considered my escape, I began to think I had left the man in my berth in a bad way.

“He would probably be accused of the crime. So, although when the wreck occurred I supposed every one connected with the affair had been killed, there was a chance that you had survived. I’ve not been of much account, but I didn’t want a man to swing because I’d left him in my place. Besides, I began to have a theory of my own.

“As we entered the car a tall, dark woman passed us, with a glass of water in her hand, and I vaguely remembered her. She was amazingly like Blanche Conway.

“If she, too, thought the man with the notes was in lower ten, it explained a lot, including that piece of a woman’s necklace. She was a fury, Blanche Conway, capable of anything.”

“Then why did you countermand that message?” I asked curiously.

“When I got to the Carter house, and got to bed—I had sprained my ankle in the jump—I went through the alligator bag I had taken from lower nine. When I found your name, I sent the first message. Then, soon after, I came across the notes. It seemed too good to be true, and I was crazy for fear the message had gone.

“At first I was going to send them to Bronson; then I began to see what the possession of the notes meant to me. It meant power over Bronson, money, influence, everything. He was a devil, that man.”

“Well, he’s at home now,” said McKnight, and we were glad to laugh and relieve the tension.

Alison put her hand over her eyes, as if to shut out the sight of the man she had so nearly married, and I furtively touched one of the soft little curls that nestled at the back of her neck.

“When I was able to walk,” went on the sullen voice, “I came at once to Washington. I tried to sell the notes to Bronson, but he was almost at the end of his rope. Not even my threat to send them back to you, Mr. Blakeley, could make him meet my figure. He didn’t have the money.”