Sheridan of the U. S. Mail.
By RALPH BOSTON.
(This interesting story was commenced in No. 148 of Nick Carter Stories. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.)
CHAPTER XXII.
A QUESTION OF COLOR.
After Owen had seen Jake Hines safely locked up in a local police station, he went back to Dallas to fulfill this mission which had brought him to Chicago. “I want you to explain to me about that letter you got from the mail box,” he said. “You got the wrong letter by a mistake, of course? Instead of the one which you had mailed to your brother, you got the pink envelope which the Reverend Doctor Moore dropped into the box?”
“Yes,” answered Dallas, “when the letter carrier opened the box and took out the mail, and I caught sight of that square, pink envelope lying on top of the heap, I jumped to the conclusion that it was mine, and I grabbed it and hurried away, fearing that he might change his mind about giving it to me. You see, Owen, I was very much excited. The letter which I had received from my scapegrace brother that day was very startling. It informed me that he was in great trouble, and was about to do something desperate—the letter didn’t state what—and that the only thing which could prevent him from taking this step was my coming to Chicago immediately. It warned me, too, that I mustn’t let a soul in New York know where I was going.”
“That was Hines’ work, of course,” said Owen. “He couldn’t come to you in New York, so he contrived that scheme to bring you out to him.”
“Yes; but I didn’t suspect anything like that. I was very much worried. From the tone of Chester’s letter I feared that he contemplated suicide, and I was awfully scared. But I didn’t very well see how I could get out to him, because”—she hesitated, and blushed painfully—“because I—I didn’t have the fare, Owen. I had been sending more than I could spare to Chester recently, to help him to get out of a scrape, and I was very hard up. So I had to write him that I was very sorry, but I really couldn’t come to Chicago.”
“And then?” said Owen eagerly.
“Then, after I had mailed that letter, I suddenly thought of the engagement ring which you had given to me, dear. I hated to pawn it, of course, but I was so scared[Pg 43] about Chester, and I—I thought you wouldn’t mind, under the circumstances.”