I took you back with me to America; you're the sort of woman we
want in our new saloon. I'll get the license. Good-night."

As he rose to go, there was a soft knock at the door. A little
girl, in a shabby frock, ventured to show herself in the room.

"What do you want here?" her mother asked sharply.

Syd held out a small thin hand, with a letter in it, which
represented her only excuse. Mrs. Westerfield read the letter,
and crumpled it up in her pocket. "One of your secrets?" James
asked. "Anything about the diamonds, for instance?"

"Wait till you are my husband," she said, "and then you may be as
inquisitive as you please." Her amiable sweetheart's guess had
actually hit the mark. During the year that had passed, she too
had tried her luck among the Experts, and had failed. Having
recently heard of a foreign interpreter of ciphers, she had
written to ask his terms. The reply (just received) not only
estimated his services at an extravagantly high rate, but asked
cautious questions which it was not convenient to answer. Another
attempt had been made to discover the mystery of the cipher, and
made in vain.

James Bellbridge had his moments of good-humor, and was on those
rare occasions easily amused. He eyed the child with
condescending curiosity. "Looks half starved," he said--as if he
were considering the case of a stray cat. "Hollo, there! Buy a
bit of bread." He tossed a penny to Syd as she left the room; and
took the opportunity of binding his bargain with Syd's mother.