Then he opened it and read. The writing was in a bold scrawl and
hastily executed:

You have heard, no doubt, of the alleged loss of an automobile by
Mr. Mortimer Warrington. I have seen your name mentioned in the
society columns of the newspapers in connection with him several
times lately. Let a disinterested person whom you do not know warn
you in time. There is more back of it than he will care to tell. I
can say nothing of the nefarious uses to which that car has been
put, but you will learn more shortly. Meanwhile, let me inform you
that he and some of the wilder of his set had that night planned a
visit to a gambling house on Forty-eighth Street. I myself saw the
car standing before another gambling den on Forty-seventh Street
about the same time. This place, I may as well inform you, bears
an unsavory reputation as a gambling joint to which young ladies
of the fastest character are admitted. If you will ask someone in
whom you have confidence and whom you can ask to work secretly for
you to look up the records, you will find that much of the
property on these two blocks, and these two places in particular,
belongs to the Warrington estate. Need I say more?

The letter was without superscription or date and was signed
merely with the words, "A Well-Wisher." The innuendo of the thing
was apparent.

"Of course," she remarked, as Garrick finished reading, and before
he could speak, "I know there is something back of it. Some person
is trying to injure Mortimer. Still---"

She did not finish the sentence. It was evident that the "well-