corner where I could defend myself at some advantage. It was a poor
chance for an unarmed man, but I found a chair and set my teeth to give
an account of myself to the first who advanced, and reproached the lack
of foresight that had allowed me to lay the revolver under the pillow
instead of putting it in my pocket.

I could distinguish four dark figures of men; but, instead of rushing
upon me as I stood on the defensive, they seized upon my assailant. I
looked on panting, and hardly able to regain my breath. It was not half
a minute before my enemy was securely bound and gagged and carried out.
One of the men lingered.

"Don't take such risks," he said. "I wouldn't have your job, Mr.
Wilton, for all the old man's money. If we hadn't happened up here,
you'd have been done for this time."

"In God's name, man, what does all this mean?" I gasped.

The man looked at me in evident surprise.

"They've got a fresh start, I guess," he said. "You'd better get some
of the men up here. Mr. Richmond sent us up to bring this letter."

He was gone silently, and I was left in the darkness. I struck a match,
lighted the gas once more, and, securing the revolver, looked to the
letter. The envelope bore no address. I tore it open. The lines were
written in a woman's hand, and a faint but peculiar perfume rose from
the paper, it bore but these words:

"Don't make the change until I see you. The money will be ready in the