time." Grier rubbed his hands cheerfully. "That's a good day's work.
It's the best you've done since you've come."

Carnac watched the scene with interest. No envy moved him, his soul was
free from malice. Evidently Tarboe was a man of power. Ruthless he
might be, ruthless and unsparing, but a man of power.

At that instant a clerk entered with a letter in his hand. "Mrs. Grier
said to give you this," he remarked to Carnac, handing it to him.

Carnac took it and the clerk departed. The letter had an American
postmark, and the handwriting on the letter brought trouble to his eyes.
He composed himself, however, and tore off the end of the envelope,
taking out the letter.

It was brief. It contained only a few lines, but as Carnac read them the
colour left his face. "Good God!" he said to himself. Then he put the
paper in his pocket, and, with a forced smile and nod to his father and
Tarboe, left the office.

"That's queer. The letter seemed to get him in the vitals," said John
Grier with surprise.

Tarboe nodded, and said to himself: "It's a woman all right." He smiled
to himself also. He had wondered why Carnac and Junia Shale had not come
to an understanding. The letter which had turned Carnac pale was the
interpretation.

"Say, sit down, Tarboe," said John Grier. "I want to talk with you."