“I do not know that I would object to that, Mr. Darrell, since my identity is concealed. Do you want it now?”

“If you please,” humbly, but secretly exulting over his success.

She went to the desk, opened it and sat down—after a minute’s thought she wrote something upon a sheet of paper.

“Will that do, Mr. Darrell?” handing it to him.

He glanced at it and read:

“This is to certify that Mr. Eric Darrell has accomplished the work for which I have employed him, in a thoroughly satisfactory manner, and that I am well satisfied with his services.

L. L.

“New York, October 7, 188–”

Darrell smiled.

“A thousand thanks, madam.”

“It answers your purpose?” quietly.

“Yes, yes.”