And seeing
a scrap of note-paper stuck between the base-board and the wall, I
dug it out with a hairpin, and threw it into the grate, to be burned
later. It was by the merest chance there was no fire there. The next
moment Mr. Holcombe was on his knees by the fireplace reaching for the
scrap.
"_Never_ do that, under such circumstances," he snapped, fishing among
the ashes. "You might throw away valuable--Hello, Howell!"
I turned and saw a young man in the doorway, smiling, his hat in his
hand. Even at that first glance, I liked Mr. Howell, and later, when
every one was against him, and many curious things were developing, I
stood by him through everything, and even helped him to the thing he
wanted more than anything else in the, world. But that, of course, was
later.
"What's the trouble, Holcombe?" he asked. "Hitting the trail again?"
"A very curious thing that I just happened on," said Mr. Holcombe.
"Mrs. Pitman, this is Mr. Howell, of whom I spoke. Sit down, Howell,
and let me read you something."
With the crumpled paper still unopened in his hand, Mr.
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