countenance reflected before her. She saw lips parted to rapid
breathing, lips that curved sweetly in a happy smile, and then as she
sat there looking she saw the expression of the face before her change.
The lips ceased to smile, the soft, brown eyes went wide and staring as
though in sudden horror. For a moment she sat thus and then, throwing
her body forward upon her dressing-table, she buried her face in her
arms.

"My God!" she cried through choking sobs.

Mason Compton was at his office the next morning, contrary to the pleas
of his daughter and the orders of his physician. Bince was feeling more
cheerful. Murray had assured him that there was a way out. He would not
tell Bince what the way was.

"Just leave it to me," he said. "The less you know, the better off
you'll be. What you want is to get rid of this fresh guy and have all
the papers in a certain vault destroyed. You see to it that only the
papers you want destroyed are in that vault, and I'll do the rest."

All of which relieved Mr. Harold Bince's elastic conscience of any
feeling of responsibility in the matter. Whatever Murray did was no
business of his. He was glad that Murray hadn't told him.

He greeted Jimmy Torrance almost affably, but he lost something of his
self-composure when Mason Compton arrived at the office, for Bince had
been sure that his employer would be laid up for at least another week,
during which time Murray would have completed his work.

The noon mail brought a letter from Murray.