The stranger glanced at the name and turned ghastly pale. His glass fell from his nerveless fingers to the floor with a crash, and he leaned heavily against the mahogany bar.
CHAPTER X.
TOLMAN BIKE.
One evening Mr. Richard Treadwell found the following letter awaiting him when he went to his rooms to dress for dinner.
“Washington, June Third, 18—.
“Dear Dick:
“I am glad to say our prolonged visit has drawn to a close, and to-morrow we return to dear old New York and—Dick. I wonder how much we have been missed. You cannot imagine how anxious I am to see you. I feel sure that you are ready to tell me all about the poor dead girl.
“You can’t imagine how I feel about her. Auntie says I am morbid and depressed. When I go to bed at night and close my eyes I can see her again lying before us, her masses of golden hair, her pretty little hands, her delicate clothes, and I can’t go to sleep for wondering whose darling she was and how she came to stray so far away from home and that they never found her.
“I firmly believe she eloped with some rascal who tired of her at last and murdered her to free himself.
“When will you solve this unhappy mystery?
“Your short, unsatisfactory letters, I have felt all along, were a mere blind to keep me from suspecting the surprising story you have in reserve for me.