let her get--frightened--I'll be--all right."

Garrick laid his hand on Warrington's unbandaged shoulder, but
said nothing.

"The--the letter," he murmured ramblingly. "I have it--in my
apartment--in the little safe. I was going to Tuxedo--to see
Violet--explain slander--tell her closing place--didn't know it
was mine before. Good thing to close it--Forbes is a heavy loser.
She doesn't know that."

Warrington lapsed back on his pillow and Dr. Mead beckoned to us
to withdraw without exciting him any further.

"What difference does it make whether she knows about Forbes or
not?" I queried as we tiptoed down the hall.

Garrick shook his head doubtfully. "Can't say," he replied
succinctly. "It may be that Forbes, too, has aspirations."

The idea sent me off into a maze of speculations, but it did not
enlighten me much. At any rate, I felt, Warrington had said enough
to explain his presence in that part of the country. On one thing,
as I have said, Garrick had guessed right. The blackmailing letter
and what we had seen the night before at the crooked gambling
joint had been too much for him. He had not been able to rest as
long as he was under a cloud with Miss Winslow until he had had a
chance to set himself right in her eyes.

There seemed to be nothing that we could do for him just then. He