Saunders hesitated for a moment, then he said: "I have something for
you from--from Marie Winship." He rested the reins in his lap, took a
letter from his pocket, and gave it to his companion. It was a small,
pale blue envelope addressed in a woman's handwriting. In the lower
left-hand corner was written "Personal and important."

Mostyn started and his face hardened as he took it. He thrust it
clumsily into his pocket. "How did you happen to--to get it?" he
asked, almost angrily. "I see it was not mailed."

Saunders kept his eyes on the back of the plodding horse.

"The truth is, she came to the bank twice to see you--once last week
and again yesterday. I managed to see her both times alone in your
office. The clerks, I think, failed to notice her. She was greatly
upset, and I did what I could to calm her. I'm not good at such
things, as you may know. She demanded your address, and, of course, I
had to refuse it, and that seemed to make her angry. She is--inclined,
Mostyn, to try to make trouble again."

Mostyn had paled; his lower lip twitched nervously. "She had better
let me alone!" he said, coldly. "I've stood it as long as I intend
to."

"I don't know anything about it," Saunders returned. "I could not
pacify her any other way, and so I promised to deliver her letter. She
would have made a scene if I had not. She has heard some way that you
are to marry Miss Mitchell, and it was on that line that her threats
were made."