never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."

Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat with
Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His
tremendous power had long made his position so secure that he had met
extraordinary situations with the calm of one who controls them. He had
startled and held others spellbound by his own infinite foresight,
resource and energy. The situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated in
the fine blue eyes of another and more ruthless general.

"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this _coup_ of yours was
planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his
deep chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do you
mean to tell me _that_?"

"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes,
exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have
friends at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that
the 'little cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove to
contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a flip of accident that
makes the present situation possible. But the rest was designed, I
regret to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."

"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his desk.

"With this end in view," she confessed.

He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her
suddenly.