against the law.”

“Then it is you yourself who will be my anonymous correspondent?” I observed quickly.

“Ah, no!” she answered. “That is, of course, the natural conclusion; but I may as well at once assure you that such will not be the case.” Then she added, “I merely ask you to accept or decline. If the former, I will ever be at your service, although we must never meet again after to-day; if the latter, then I will wish you adieu, and the terrible fate your unknown enemies have prepared for you must be allowed to take effect.”

“But I should be drowned!” I exclaimed in alarm. “Surely you will not abandon me!”

“Not if you will consent to ally yourself with me.”

“For evil?” I suggested very dubiously.

“No, for good,” she answered. “I require your silence, and I desire that you should render assistance to one who is sorely in need of a friend.”

“Financial aid?”

“No, finance has nothing to do with it. The unknown person has money and to spare. It is a devoted personal assistance and obedience that is required.”

“But how can one be devoted to a person one has neither seen nor known?” I queried, for her words had increased the mystery.

The shrewd suspicion grew upon me that this curious effort to secure my silence was because of her own guilt; that she intended to bind me to a compact in her own nefarious interests.

“I am quite well aware of the strangeness of the conditions I am imposing upon you, but they are necessary.”

“And if I accept them will the mystery of to-night ever be explained?” I inquired, eager to learn the truth.

“Of that I know not,” she answered vaguely. “Your silence is required to preserve the secret.”

“But tell me,” I said quickly, “how many persons were there present in that house beside yourself?”

“No, no!” she ejaculated in a tone of horror. “Make no further inquiry. Try and forget all—everything—as I shall try and forget. You cannot know—you will never know—therefore it is utterly 

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