THE MISSING DIAGRAMS
MRS. BURNHAM was the first to arouse from the stupor which had held her
and her companions equally silent.
“My husband!” she gasped. “Where is Peter?” Maynard, relaxing his hold
on his prisoner as Mitchell slipped handcuffs on his wrists, swung
himself out of bed.
“There’s Burnham coming in the door now with Chief Connor,” he stated,
and all turned in that direction. Burnham, his eyes half starting out
of his head, looked first at Hayden, then at La Montagne, and last at
James Palmer.
“Good God! Wasn’t it either La Montagne or Palmer?” he demanded.
“La Montagne and Palmer are innocent,” announced Maynard. “When I
impersonated you, Burnham, and not for the first time--” he smiled
at Hayden’s furious look--“I used Palmer as a stalking horse. The
announcement that I had the key to the German’s cipher code did the
trick. You were quick, Hayden,” addressing the physician whose
ghastly face and horror-filled eyes testified to his feelings. “It was
infernally clever of you to seize the opportunity to administer poison
under pretext of reviving a supposedly dying man, and thus prevent his
ever exposing you and the key to the cipher.”
Coroner Penfield pressed forward. “Can you prove it, Maynard?”
“Yes; examine that glass,” directed Maynard, pointing to the one he
had taken from the physician. “Ah, Hayden, you slipped up in your
cleverness--though had I been the man you took me for, you would have
succeeded in poisoning me, and right under the eyes of Coroner Penfield
and Detective Mitchell. God! man, why couldn’t you remain straight,
instead of resorting to trickery, treachery, and murder!”
Hayden’s eyes fell before Maynard’s piercing gaze and he stood in
sullen silence. Coroner Penfield, moving the medicine glass gently to
and fro, sniffed at its contents, and when he set the glass down his
face was white.
“Prussic acid!” he announced. “Enough to kill you in three seconds if
you had swallowed it, Maynard.”
“Yes. It was the unmistakable odor of the poison which warned me as
Hayden held it under my nose.” Maynard took off Burnham’s dressing
gown which he wore over his own clothes. “The game is up, Hayden; you
might as well confess.”
For the first time Hayden broke his silence. “Confess to what?” he
asked insolently. “I did not murder you and I did not murder Count
Fritz von Eltz. You--” and his accusing voice rang through the
room--“you, Maynard, did that.”
Marian raised her hand to her lips to check the cry of terror which
almost escaped her as Mitchell moved slightly toward Maynard.
“Your guess is wrong, Hayden,” answered Maynard composedly. “I did not
murder Von Eltz--he killed himself.”
“A likely tale!” scoffed Hayden, with a return of his habitual
dictatorial manner.
“A true tale,” responded Maynard sternly. “I admit Von Eltz did not
intentionally commit suicide, but he innocently drank the poison he had
prepared for me.”
“What!” chorused his listeners, and Hayden’s stare of unbelief became
one of baffled fury.
“I will make my explanations as brief as possible,” began Maynard.
“While in Europe I have been of some assistance working for the
Intelligence Service of our Allies, my ability to disguise myself
and my experience as an actor being valuable aids in my work.” He
glanced at Marian, but her eyes were downcast. “While in Switzerland
my suspicions were aroused by the great frequency with which chess
problems were going and coming from Germany--they have been allowed
through the mails from every country since the outbreak of the world
war.”
“Of course,” broke in Burnham impatiently. “Chess problems are always
interesting and help the study of tactical problems by officers in war
time.”
“And chess has proved a valuable aid to Germany in more ways than
one,” remarked Maynard dryly. “Realizing the use that might be made of
problem diagrams to a nation which excels in cipher codes, I decided to
look into the matter--and from this end.”
“When was that?” asked Palmer, leaving his place at the foot of the
bed. “Can’t we have the light switched on?” he added. “The storm is
making the room fearfully dark.”
Marian stepped back and pressed the wall button and the room was
flooded with light.
“Go on, Mr. Maynard,” directed Chief Connor.
“My suspicions were aroused a month ago and I came to this country
ostensibly to take part in training camp activities. I remembered your
interest in chess, Burnham, and decided to ask your aid; in fact sent
a wireless when off New York telling you I was coming to Washington.”
Maynard paused to sip a glass of water, carefully avoiding the
medicine glass standing next it on the bed stand. “I reached Washington
Monday afternoon.”
Chief Connor nodded. “So I was informed by the taxi-driver, Sam,” he
said. “Sam had called to lay information against you, Maynard, just
before your telephone came asking me to come here. Sam is now under
arrest.”
A piercing scream from Mrs. Ward drew all eyes to the housekeeper, and
Chief Connor addressed her sternly.
“Sam finally confessed that he was your son,” he stated. “And he
implicated you in this far reaching German plot which Mr. Maynard has
unearthed so cleverly. Sam confessed you had given him duplicate keys
of this house and that he had passed them over for a consideration to
a ‘party’ whose name he would not divulge, even under pressure.” Chief
Connor turned to Hayden. “He meant _you_.”
“Did he?” Hayden smiled contemptuously. “Prove it; there is no law
which forces a suspected party to incriminate himself.”
“We don’t need further proof,” interrupted Maynard with significant
emphasis. “Sam----”
“Had nothing to do with Count von Eltz’ death,” declared Mrs. Ward
vehemently, her bloodshot eyes turning pleadingly to first one and then
another. “Sam is a good boy, but led astray by----” She stopped and
bit her lip.
“I know he had nothing to do with the tragic happenings on Monday
night,” responded Maynard quickly, taking pity on the woman’s evident
agony. “Let me complete my story. Upon my arrival, I telephoned this
house and a voice I did not recognize told me that Mr. Burnham was out
of town but would be back in two days. I had seen in the newspapers
that La Montagne was in Washington and hunted him up. At the Burlington
I found the desk clerk so busy that I got the number of your room,
René, from an elevator boy and went, unattended, directly to it. I
found the door open and a charwoman just leaving. On explaining that I
was a friend of yours, she let me in and went away.”
“She never told me that any one had called,” exclaimed La Montagne.
“Forgot all about it probably,” went on Maynard. “I got rather restless
sitting still waiting for you, and looked about for something to read.
A letter lying open with a key holding it down attracted my attention.”
Maynard flushed. “I don’t usually read private correspondence, René,
and you must forgive the breach of manners, but on seeing Burnham’s
signature at the bottom of the page, I took the liberty to glance down
it, and his statement that he would be at his house that night, and
that he sent you the key to enter because the house was _unoccupied_,
instantly piqued my curiosity. The statement was directly contrary to
what I had learned over the telephone half an hour before. Acting on
impulse I pocketed Burnham’s key and left the apartment.”
“_Mon Dieu!_” ejaculated La Montagne in open-eyed astonishment.
“In one of my disguises I went to Burnham’s house that night,” went on
Maynard. “It is some years since I have been in Washington and in the
driving rainstorm I got confused and had to ask how to find the house.”
“I was the person you asked,” stated Marian, interrupting him. “Your
voice--” she stopped and continued softly--“your voice was familiar,
but I did not recognize you in your make-up. My servant, Mammy, who was
with me, answered your question.”
“And I failed to recognize you in the storm for you were so bundled
up,” replied Maynard. “On reaching this house I was admitted by a
man I had not seen for years, Count Fritz von Eltz. He had attempted
to conceal his identity by dying his hair and shaving his beard and
mustache, but his disguise was badly done.” Maynard paused. “I gave an
assumed name and showed a faked telegram from Burnham. I could see
Von Eltz was doubtful how to act; he dared not turn me away for fear
I might investigate his right to be in the house, and he did the only
thing he could--invited me in and took me up to his quarters, saying
Burnham had permitted him to occupy the house in his absence.”
“He did!” Mrs. Burnham’s indignant interruption caused Maynard to look
at her. “Where was he living in this house?”
“In the housekeeper’s suite of rooms on the third floor,” explained
Maynard, and Mrs. Ward cowered back under their glances. “One thing
and then another led Shipman--that was the name Von Eltz gave me--to
suggest a game of chess and I jumped at the opportunity. We played most
of the night, but during his many frequent absences, I heard him at the
telephone downstairs, presumably trying to reach you, Hayden,” and the
physician clenched his fists in wrath.
“Pity you didn’t get the ’phone numbers he was calling,” remarked Chief
Connor.
“I didn’t try to get the numbers; another and more imperative matter
engaged my attention, in his absence,” answered Maynard. “Among Von
Eltz’ papers I found a set of problem diagrams, and on examining them
the preponderance of pieces to pawns struck my eyes, but this was
explained momentarily by the reflection that the composer had probably
assigned himself a definite task which involved a certain specified
number of men. When Von Eltz next absented himself from the room, I
went over the problem diagrams again.” Maynard paused, and Burnham
edged nearer, his eyes shining with excitement.
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN THREE MOVES.]
“One position had a white pawn on rook’s eighth, another a white pawn
on the king’s square,” continued Maynard.
“One I would have passed as a misprint, a hasty setting down of the
wrong man, but hardly two such errors in six diagrams, and I concluded,
weighing the presence of Von Eltz under an assumed name in the house,
that I had stumbled on a very serious message coded in the innocent
disguise of chess problems.”
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN FOUR MOVES.]
“What did you do then?” demanded Burnham.
“Continued to play the game,” answered Maynard. “But before Von Eltz
returned I insured his sleeping soundly that night by pouring a small
amount of diluted hyoscine, which I carry with me for insomnia, in one
of the liqueur glasses containing cherry cordial which Von Eltz had
brought upstairs earlier in the evening.”
“Quite sure it was not hydrocyanic acid?” asked Hayden, and both tone
and manner were as insulting as he could make them.
“Quite,” answered Maynard. “My idea was to insure Von Eltz sleeping
soundly while I ransacked the house in search of other evidence of
German espionage and intrigue.”
“Just a moment,” Chief Connor broke in. “Did Von Eltz bring up only two
glasses of cordial?”
“Only two glasses, but a decanter of the cordial,” responded Maynard.
“He sipped his at intervals, possibly as a bracer, but I drank
sparingly. Frankly, my mind was so engaged with the problem of securing
the chess diagrams without his suspecting it, that I paid little
attention to what he did. I do remember, however, that previous to a
vivid flash of lightning, followed by terrific thunder, which put out
our lights temporarily, Von Eltz had refilled both glasses, and at his
urging I tossed off mine just before I went to bed.”
“Well, what then?” demanded Hayden. The strain was telling on him and
he sought to hurry Maynard’s leisurely speech.
“Then, contrary to my expectations, I slept heavily all night,”
answered Maynard, unruffled by his questioner’s manner. “On rising I
went into the sitting room, Von Eltz having insisted that I should
occupy his bed and he take the sofa there, and I found him lying on the
floor--dead.”
Coroner Penfield broke the silence that followed. “When did you make
this discovery?”
“About eight in the morning.”
“Good gracious! Were you hiding in the house when I arrived at ten
o’clock?” gasped Evelyn.
“No. I was stunned by my discovery, but half awake, and my first
thought was that I had inadvertently given Von Eltz an overdose of
hyoscine and killed him,” explained Maynard. “In my confused state of
mind, I dressed immediately and left the house, taking my suit case,
which I had brought with me, as well as the six chess problem diagrams;
first, however, I searched Von Eltz’ body and found nothing--not even
a pocket handkerchief. I overlooked the string which you discovered
later, Penfield.”
“And which I promptly lost,” and the coroner made a wry face.
“I took it unseen from your pocket when coming out of my faint,”
volunteered Mrs. Ward from the background. “I was in mortal terror Sam
was mixed up in the man’s death and so I also stole the ball of cord
out of Mr. Burnham’s library; I knew he used it to send his parcels
abroad, and I gave the cord to Sam. He told me, Miss Evelyn, that he
accidentally handed you a piece from the ball when helping you gather
up your bundles.”
“So that was it!” and Evelyn sighed with relief; the tangled skein was
rapidly unwinding and brighter hours seemed ahead with the clearing of
the mystery. “Where did you go after leaving here, Mr. Maynard?”
“To the home of an old ‘dresser’ of mine who is still employed in a
local theater,” replied Maynard. “He took me in without requiring
explanations, and after a bath and something to eat I was again in
condition to reason things out. I concluded to return here that
afternoon, await developments, and if possible find out if Burnham was
in any way aiding the Germans by the loan of his house, and by using
his established reputation as a chess expert to cloak their method of
passing valuable information in and out of Germany.”
“Heavens! I knew nothing of it!” gasped Burnham, appalled. “I assure
you, Maynard, I had no idea----”
“I know that now,” acknowledged Maynard quickly. “After my bath I went
over the chess problem diagrams again, and this time my examination
became more technical and its results increased my suspicions of a
code.” Maynard paused, and took from his pocket small squares of paper
and laid them systematically in front of him on the bed.
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN THREE MOVES.]
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN FOUR MOVES.]
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN THREE MOVES.]
[Illustration: WHITE TO PLAY AND MATE IN THREE MOVES.]
“Examining the top rank of each diagram from left to right,” continued
Maynard, “I noticed that the first and fifth squares were the most
frequently occupied. This suggested that the squares represented the
first and fifth letters of the alphabet, the important vowels a and
e. Taking a blank diagram I wrote out the twenty-six letters of the
alphabet on the squares in sequence, filling somewhat less than the
top half of the board. Then I chose the letters indicated on the first
diagram by the white pieces, in the usually accepted order of their
powers, King, Queen, Castle, Bishop, Knight, and Pawn. I was rewarded
by the two startling words: ‘New gas’.”
“Well, well, go on,” pleaded Burnham, his excitement outrunning
Maynard’s deliberation of speech.
“The black pieces were not yet accounted for,” went on Maynard. “So I
repeated the alphabet a second time, beginning with ‘a’ on the third
square from the left on the fourth rank from the top of the board.
This yielded the phrase: ‘New gas to be us----’, and there I stuck,”
he admitted. “I floundered about hopelessly making little sense of the
remainder of the diagrams, and then I concluded that I had failed to
secure all the diagrams of the set. That clinched my determination to
return here and search for other diagrams. I arrived, as you know,
just after Evelyn discovered Von Eltz’ body. With the pressing need of
finding the missing diagrams without betraying my knowledge of their
existence, I decided to keep my own counsel and play a lone hand.”
“Did you get the missing diagrams?” demanded Burnham.
“I found one among Palmer’s blue prints in his office Friday
afternoon----”
“You did!” Palmer shouted the interruption, reddening hotly. “This is
the first I have ever heard of these diagrams----”
“I know it,” acknowledged Maynard. “You accidentally carried the
diagram off among your papers from Hayden’s desk in your apartment, eh,
Hayden?” but the physician made no answer and Maynard continued his
explanation. “Frankly, Palmer, on finding the diagram I thought you
guilty until--I’m sorry,” and Maynard glanced contritely at Palmer,
observing his hurt expression.
“It’s all right,” he mumbled ungraciously. “What about the diagram you
found in my office?”
“It made seven diagrams in my possession,” responded Maynard, “and
applying the same key, I then had half the message, but it was not
until Jones gave me a note from Mrs. Van Ness this afternoon that I got
the last diagram; here,” and taking a folded paper from his pocket
he laid it alongside the other diagrams and Burnham and Palmer bent
eagerly over them. “This is the message coded there in its entirety:
‘New gas to be used selenium fluoride. Ordinary absorbents useless.
Start Reichanstalt on search for antidote.’”
Marian turned impulsively to Maynard. “Well done!” she exclaimed. “But
I never sent you any diagram.”
“Your message--” Maynard picked up the paper and reversed it--“is
written here. Where did you get the paper?”
“I gave it to her,” spoke up Jones, edging slightly forward. “It was on
the hall table.”
“That was where I found the bundle of diagrams which I gave Mr. Burnham
yesterday,” volunteered Evelyn. “Perhaps I dropped one there; the
package was not tied.”
“Perhaps, but--” Maynard eyed Hayden attentively--“investigation proved
pretty conclusively, Burnham, that your innocent chess correspondence
was being tampered with and used to forward and receive coded problem
diagrams. It was clever work, Hayden, but you blundered badly when you
attempted to shoot Burnham on Thursday night.”
“I did not,” declared Hayden vehemently. “Even you, Maynard, must admit
I sat by his side at the table. The shot came from the balcony.”
“It did--when you pressed the electric button,” stated Maynard, and
his words created a sensation. “A very neat contrivance you rigged
up in the wicker bird-cage lantern; its small open door attracted
no attention on that pitch dark night, and the revolver in it was
completely hidden.”
Hayden moved restlessly. “A pleasant fairy-tale,” he muttered.
“No, gospel truth,” retorted Maynard. “In yours and Palmer’s absence
this morning I made a thorough examination of your apartment, your Jap,
Siki, taking me for Burnham in my disguise. I aided him in removing the
electric wires which had been used to hold the revolver in the lantern
and connected with the trigger; also, I took full note of the fact that
the lantern, by aid of a pulley on which it swings, can be raised or
lowered at will. The electric current which pressed the trigger was
supplied and controlled by the electric wires running from the bell
attached to the dining table and the pantry. That was the bell the Jap
heard when you fired the revolver at Burnham.”
“Was it?” snarled Hayden. “Your statement is not borne out by facts.
Fully five minutes elapsed before Palmer and Burnham rushed into the
hall after the shooting and they found Siki answering the bell then,
which had just rung.”
“Siki distorted the truth to shield his negligence,” replied Maynard.
“On investigation I found he was out on the fire-escape talking to
your neighbor’s pretty cook, and he was late in answering the bell in
consequence.”
“I am glad Siki’s leaving,” declared Palmer. “If he had been prompt
that night La Montagne might have been spared some uneasy moments.” He
shrugged his shoulders and looked away from Evelyn; he could not bear
with equanimity just then her happy face as she stood by her lover.
“I noticed the lantern hung pretty low that night but never gave it
another thought. It swings directly in front of the balcony window.”
“And right in line with where Burnham sat,” added Maynard. “I made
another interesting discovery, Hayden, in your apartment, the
significance of which I did not recognize until later, and that was
magic lantern slides on which was drawn in colors a picture of this
string,” taking the familiar red and green cord from his pocket, “and a
very excellent likeness of Von Eltz sitting dead in his chair. I also
saw that Palmer’s window was at such an angle that the slides could be
thrown directly in Evelyn’s bedroom. It was a bit of deviltry which,
frankly, infuriated me.”
“Thank God it was no illusion on my part!” exclaimed Evelyn fervently.
“But, Mother, you must have seen the dead man as well as I?”
Mrs. Burnham blushed hotly. “I did,” she confessed. “But I recognized
the man as one who had traveled to Chelsea to blackmail my husband;
and, God forgive me, I feared Mr. Burnham had met him here and, in a
moment of desperation, poisoned him with some of the hydrocyanic acid
which had been prescribed for stomach disorders for him when we were
in Florida last winter. I knew the bottle was in the house somewhere,
that we had plenty of cherry cordial, and that Mr. Burnham had left for
Washington on Monday.”
Burnham, who had listened with increasing anxiety, exclaimed hurriedly:
“My train did not reach here until early Tuesday morning and I went
to a Turkish bath and later got my breakfast and lunch down town;
then came up to this house, saw the windows opened, and on entering
went directly to the library and rang for Jones, supposing he was
downstairs. Glancing about the library I saw the dead man, Von Eltz,
or Shipman, as I knew him; realized I had promised to meet him that
afternoon; that I had threatened to make trouble if he blackmailed me
again, and not stopping to think bolted out of the house and into the
taxi which was still standing at the curb.”
“But I don’t understand how the dead man got in the library,” exclaimed
Evelyn.
Hayden raised his head and addressed them sullenly. “I carried him
there,” he admitted. “There’s a side entrance to our apartment house
which opens directly on your court, Burnham, and with the pass-keys
which Sam gave me, I could enter this house at any hour unobserved.
I came in about two o’clock Tuesday and stole upstairs to Von Eltz’
usual quarters and found him lying there dead. It was a fearful shock.”
Hayden passed his hand across his mouth. “I was uncertain whether Von
Eltz had committed suicide or been murdered, or who had murdered him. I
decided to destroy all evidence of his having occupied the rooms, and
did so; no very difficult job, as Von Eltz had planned to go on Tuesday
anyway, and we had sent away practically everything.”
“Why did you carry the body into the library?” asked Maynard.
“I was carrying it into the basement intending to destroy it with
quick-lime,” explained Hayden. “Hearing some one, Evelyn, I found out
later, moving about downstairs, I gave up my original plan, propped the
body in the chair in the library and disappeared. Mitchell,” turning to
the detective, “I have committed no crime. Take off these handcuffs.”
“Wait,” directed Chief Connor, as Mitchell stared uncertainly at his
prisoner and at Maynard. “Turn Dr. Hayden over to the Department of
Justice officials, Mitchell. You have been guilty of high treason, sir,
and must pay the penalty. Sam, the taxi-driver, states Von Eltz brought
you the Iron Cross for your work.” Mitchell took out from his pocket
the decoration which he had found at the theater and Hayden winced.
“Sam,” continued Connor, “has sworn to still more revolting crimes on
your part. Take, for instance, the suit case----”
“It was only filled with quick-lime,” broke in Hayden. “I asked Mrs.
Ward to give it to her son----”
“And to mark the suit case with Mr. Maynard’s initials,” completed
Connor dryly. “Your machinations involved every one you came in contact
with; a scientifically educated criminal is a double menace to public
welfare. Go with Mitchell.”
Hayden stood motionless for one long minute, then with eyes averted he
walked out of the room, his former companions falling back to let him
pass. Mrs. Ward, back in her corner, was startled by Mitchell’s hand on
her shoulder.
“You are to come with us,” he said, and without a backward glance the
housekeeper followed the detective and Hayden from the house.
For a moment after their departure the silence was absolute; then
Maynard, drawing a long breath, faced the Chief of the Secret Service.
“The strain is over,” he said thankfully. “I really thought I had
killed Von Eltz with an accidental overdose of hyoscine until you
announced, Coroner Penfield, that he had died from hydrocyanic acid;
then for the first time I realized he must have penetrated my disguise,
attempted to poison me and inadvertently mixed the glasses and drank
the dose he prepared for me.”
Marian’s low “Thank God!” reached only Mrs. Burnham, and that astute
dame, catching her expression, acted with promptness.
“It’s been a horrible six days,” she confessed, “with every one
suspecting every one else. Evelyn, if you hurry, you can catch the
Society Editors at their office. Tell them to put in the morning
newspapers that _Mr._ and Mrs. Peter Burnham announce your engagement
to Captain René La Montagne and that the marriage will take place next
month.”
“Mother!” Evelyn’s arms flew about her and she gave her a most
undignified hug. “Bless you,” and La Montagne gratefully kissed her
hand; then the two young lovers hurried from the room.
Burnham went up to his wife. “Lillian,” his voice broke. “I haven’t
deserved your faith and your splendid loyalty; but Hayden led me to
believe that I was developing a tendency to homicidal mania; there is
a taint in our family, my uncle died insane. Hayden loaned me books on
poisons, suggested that La Montagne would do me physical injury, and
so worked upon me that I even took underhand methods, such as forging
Evelyn’s name on receipts of La Montagne’s letters and suppressing the
letters from her. I cannot forgive myself for the harm I might have
done.”
“Hush! don’t blame yourself too much, Peter.” Mrs. Burnham colored.
“Dr. Hayden made quite as big a fool of me,” as the memory of her
interview that morning occurred to her. “Must you go, Dr. Penfield?”
“Yes.” The coroner picked up the medicine glass containing prussic
acid. “With your permission, Maynard, I’ll take this for laboratory
examination.”
“Wait for me downstairs, Penfield,” called Chief Connor as the others
started for the door. “Mr. Maynard, you have done fine work; rest
assured no more coded chess problems will go to or come from Germany.
Thanks and congratulations,” and he wrung his hand, bowed to Marian Van
Ness and left the room.
Marian turned to accompany him when Maynard rose from his chair and
detained her.
“Marian.” His always charming voice took its most tender tone. “All is
not said between you and me. Did you mean your brief message on the
back of the chess diagram? It went straight to my heart to have you
say: ‘I need you.’ _Do_ you need me, dear?”
“I--I--” Marian hesitated and her color rose--“I was greatly troubled;
I lost my identification card admitting me to the State Department,
and--and the missing blotter frightened me----”
“Do not fear.” Maynard smiled brightly down at her averted face. “Dr.
Hayden was the thief probably; Siki showed me this morning skeleton
keys of every apartment in the building. However, they were concealed
in Palmer’s room, which led me to believe that Palmer was the traitor.
Let us forget it all.” He caught her hand in his. “Dearest, when I
asked you after your divorce to marry me----”
“Dan--Dan--” she cried, brokenly--“I couldn’t do it--then----”
“And you never answered my letters----”
“I didn’t dare; I was afraid I’d say too much.”
“Say it now,” he pleaded and his whisper, “Sweetheart,” found its echo
on her lips.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.