"I will!" Kent's pledge rang out clearly, and Helen with a lighter
heart turned to walk away when a telegraph boy appeared around the
corner of the corridor and thrust a yellow envelope at Kent, who
stood half inside his office watching Helen.

"Sign here," the boy said, indicating the line on the receipt slip,
and getting it back, departed.

Motioning to Helen to wait, Kent tore open the telegram. It was
from Cleveland and dated the night before. The message ran:
Called to Cleveland. Address City Club. Rochester.

Without comment Kent held out the telegram so that Helen could
read it.

"What!" she exclaimed. "Philip in Cleveland last night. I - I
- don't understand." And looking at her Kent was astounded at the
flash of terror which shone for an instant in her eyes. Before he
had time to question her she bolted around the corridor.

Kent remained staring ahead for an instant then returned thoughtfully
to his office, and within a second Sylvester received a telephone
message to show Colonel McIntyre into Kent's office. Not only
Colonel McIntyre followed the clerk into the room but Benjamin
Clymer. "Any further developments, Kent?" inquired the banker.
"No, we can't sit down; just dropped in to see you a minute."

"There is nothing new," Kent had made instant decision; such
information regarding the death of Turnbull as he had gleaned from
Ferguson, and the events of the night before should be confided to