party, and generally in duplicate. There was another man, for
instance, who had a copy of the same letter, but I never came
across him or even knew his name."

"Gee whiz!" the young man exclaimed. "You're telling me things,
and no mistake! Why this fellow Fynes made a secret service
messenger of you!"

Penelope nodded.

"It was all very simple," she said. "The first Mrs. Harvey, who
was alive then, was my greatest friend, and I was in and out of
the place all the time. Now, perhaps, you can understand the
significance of that marconigram from Hamilton Fynes asking me to
lunch with him at the Carlton today."

Mr. Richard Vanderpole was sitting bolt upright, gazing steadily
ahead.

"I wonder," he said slowly, "what has become of the letter which
he was going to give you!"

"One thing is certain," she declared. "It is in the hands of
those whose interests would have been affected by its delivery."

"How much of this am I to tell the chief?" the young man asked.

"Every word," Penelope answered. "You see, I am trying to give
you a start in your career. What bothers me is an entirely
different question."