When I was somewhat calmed I called the bookseller to me. "Now, friend," I said, "I am about to ask you to do me a great favor. Suppress this book."

He looked blank. "That will be difficult," he answered, "and will cost something. But it can be done, if you do not mind the expense. A few copies will have gotten out, but not many. Yes, it can be done."

"Do it," I said, "and I am your friend forever."

--

"Well," he said, "well". He heaved a long sigh of regret. It was hard to have to smother this promising infant as soon as it was born. "I suppose I must see the publishers at once. But it seems a pity. It would be a good seller."

But this worthy bookseller of mine was not all bookseller. He was man as well, and as a man he had had his doubts. And so I left him, somewhat eased of my fear. And I walked to my rooms, for I would clear the fogs from my brain, that I might think clearly and see what was to do. For I have ever found that violent exercise helps to clear thinking, whether it be chopping wood or other. And many a time, when I might do naught else but walk, have I found myself miles from home before I had my matter thought out, for I took no heed to my feet but only to my head, and tore along at a pace that made the policemen stare. So I walked; and as I walked, I bethought me that here was Richard Curtis, and he had had three refusals within two years, while I had but one, and that one twenty years and more behind me. Was I to be outdone by a dead man? As for Fairleigh Johns, I would eat his dinner, and then be as rude as God made me.

So I went home and dressed with more than ordinary care; and in due time I was ringing at Mr. Johns's door. James let me in, silently, and ushered me into Johns's presence. He, fool, was poor

Mr.

more than usually cheerful,

cheerful to the verge of hilarity; and I had to endure his cheerfulness, as I might the best, through a dinner longer than common. But at last we were sipping our coffee and smoking, in his study, and James the Silent was no longer behind my chair.

"Well, Fairleigh," I said, "and who is the fortunate person? What is the name within the mysterious envelope?"

I thought that he would never speak, he was so long in doing it; and I watched the changing expressions on his face until I found them amusing. I wondered which would prevail, which state of mind

would be the last.

I should have known it. There came the smile upon his face. "I do not know," he said at last. "I have not opened it."

"Why, man," I cried, "have it out, then, and let us see.”

"Well," he said slowly, "if I must, and I suppose I must." He rose, reluctantly, I thought, and went to his safe. "There!" he said, throwing upon the table the envelope, unopened. "You open it. I-I am afraid.”

He was afraid. There was no doubt of it. His voice quivered as he spoke. I took the envelope and tore it open, although I knew well enough, by this, what name it contained. Had I not Curtis's confession in my pocket?

"Letitia," I said, and tossed it toward him.

He did not take it up. He groaned, instead, then forced himself to smile. "I hoped," he murmured, “I hoped but it does not matter."

I watched him for some while, in pity for that which I was about to do. But what was to do must be done.

"Fairleigh," I said, with a sprightly manner, and, as I spoke, pulling forth the book, “here is an interesting production, full of interest for the friends of Cur

tis."

He smiled in a pleased way, but deprecating, too. "I am glad you think so,' he answered. "I tried to make it so." "You succeeded," I went on, bent upon

my purpose, "admirably. Your industry is to be commended. You have made it interesting for Miss Letitia and her friends too."

He stammered forth his surprise. "Miss Letitia - Miss Letitia? But how -I do not see how What do you

mean ?"

"Fairleigh Johns," I said slowly, "do you mean to tell me that you have forgotten that you did not know Richard Curtis's love story before you got these together? I do not believe it. Do you know what you have done? You have made Letitia a topic of conversation in every club in town. You have made her the subject of newspaper interviews, already written. You may expect to hear her name cried in the street within a week. Do not say that you did not know it. What you have done is". I hesitated for a fitting word. None other would do. " is damnable. You have forgotten your duty to Curtis - who is dead and to her who is alive. Do think she you will not writhe under it?" He tried to brazen it out. "Really, my dear fellow," he replied, "I fail to see that you have a duty in the matter. It lies between my publishers and myself. And," he added, lamely enough, "the book was not to come out until to-morrow."

"Letitia," I repeated, "who was ready to give to you of her abundance, you have sacrificed,- for a cheap notoriety. You will find it come dear, Fairleigh."

Again I was amused in watching the changing expressions on his face. Some while I watched him; then he covered his face with his hands, and groaned.

"Twice," he said at last, but not looking at me, "twice, in the past two years, you have mentioned Alan Martiss's name to me. The last time I was afraid, and made an angry reply. It was a guilty conscience that made me; for I have done as he did, not so much," he added hastily, as if for fear that I should think nothing was left, "not so much. Not more than a quarter of the money is gone; and

you do not know how I was tempted. Why, one evening, when you came, you remember James was out. I said I had let him go. So I had, and so I did each evening, any time that he could get employment, except the mornings. I needed him, then. And I gave up the theatre; I gave up everything that I could, even the Club, and — well, there is no use in rehearsing it.

"And then this thing occurred to me. I had thought of it before, but not seriously. And I did it. Its consequences I would not think of. The sum that I receive from the publishers is nearly large enough to make up what I have had hoped this would be for me legacy from Curtis. But now, there is nothing for me but the end that Alan Martiss chose."

I

a

He was nearly sobbing as he made an end, and I was nigh to laughing. Such tragedy from Fairleigh Johns! But I sobered at the advice I was about to give him. Would Letitia - there was no telling what a woman would do.

66

'Cheer up, man," I said, "and talk no more nonsense. You are not going to shoot yourself. You will go, instead, to see Miss Letitia. You will explain this matter to her. Do not spare yourself. She will understand readily, more readily than you will relish, perhaps. And see what comes of it. For the book is to be suppressed."

"Suppressed!" he cried. "So, then, I get no money from the publishers? I was to receive it to-morrow."

"You poor fool," I cried, in my turn, "did you think any friend of hers could let it issue? As to the check, I do not know. The publishers may be idiots enough to send it to you, but I should think not. Go now, at once."

So he went, and I went, too, and left him at Letitia's door. For I feared to leave him sooner, and from the dark shadows across the street - friendly shadows, from which I had more than once watched that door I watched him until the door opened and he entered.

"It was Curtis himself," I said, “and not himself, either. For see, Letitia.”

And I drew forth the book. For she was wide-eyed, making nothing of my riddles. We sat us down by the lamp, and I explained the matter.

"And for a wedding present for my wife," I said, "there will be a small matter of five thousand copies ten, perhaps. What will she do with them?"

She was leaning back, looking at me. It seemed to strike her as funny. "What a library!" she said. "I will build a house for them." She sobered then. "Poor Mr. Johns!"

"What of him?" I asked. "I had forgotten him."

"He asked me to marry him," she answered, "an hour ago or offered to I did not know about the

marry me. book."

“And you?"

"Oh, I refused him, as gently as I could. I was sorry for him.'

"Did he tell you”.

"Poor fool!" I said. "And then?"

"Oh, then!" She shuddered as she recalled it. "He became abject. It was terrible to see him fallen so low. I did not suppose he was a coward." She stopped, hesitated a moment. No doubt Mr.

Johns had threatened self-destruction. "You need not have been afraid, Letitia," I said. "He would not have destroyed himself."

"I did not know," she answered. "I would not have him on my conscience. So then"

She pointed to her desk. Her checkbook lay open upon it. I had not noticed it. It had been like her, too, to give him enough to make it up.

"See," she said; and showed me the last entry. The check had been drawn for the amount of Curtis's legacy. I stared and stared, and dropped the book. "Letitia!" I cried.

"Yes," she said. "Was n't it lucky that I had it? He needs it more than I."

We were both silent for some minutes, and I stared at the fire. When I looked up, she was crying softly.

VOL. 98-NO. 2