“Martha,” I said, breathlessly, “something tells me that we are on the
brink of a fortune.”
Martha shook her head. “You always have been, Miss Enid,” she said. But
I went to bed with a sense of elation and fearlessness, prompted by the
memory of a voice.
At seven the next morning I had Prince over the wire.
“Are you willing to catch the eight-thirty express, and to stop first and
relieve me of a check for forty thousand dollars?” I asked. “Stop, you
will hurt the receiver!”
After all, an ideal supplanted is hardly overthrown. I confess, however,
to a day of apprehension until the rural free delivery handed me a
letter. It was consistently terse:
“When you greeted me as another, I knew that it was the only way to
insure the safety of your valuables. Had you suspected me you would
not have trusted a stranger. Yours is the right to withdraw the
sale. Otherwise, a check for the maximum value will go to you.
Forgive me, Cinderella, and think gently of