responsibility? Your name won't appear, of course; and as to your
friend's, I don't see why his should, either. He wasn't a
celebrity himself, I suppose?"

"No, no."

"Then the letters can be addressed to Mr. Blank. Doesn't that
make it all right?"

Glennard's hesitation revived. "For the public, yes. But I don't
see that it alters the case for me. The question is, ought I to
publish them at all?"

"Of course you ought to." Flamel spoke with invigorating
emphasis. "I doubt if you'd be justified in keeping them back.
Anything of Margaret Aubyn's is more or less public property by
this time. She's too great for any one of us. I was only
wondering how you could use them to the best advantage--to
yourself, I mean. How many are there?"

"Oh, a lot; perhaps a hundred--I haven't counted. There may be
more. . . ."

"Gad! What a haul! When were they written?"

"I don't know--that is--they corresponded for years. What's the
odds?" He moved toward his hat with a vague impulse of flight.

"It all counts," said Flamel, imperturbably. "A long
correspondence--one, I mean, that covers a great deal of time--is