Gard crushed the letter in his hand in a frenzy of fury.  So this—­this was Mahr’s objective, this the cowardly vengeance his despicable mind had evolved!  He would strike his enemy through the heart of a child—­he would humiliate the girl so that, with shame and horror, she would turn away from all that life held for her!  He knew that if the bolt found lodgment in her heart she would consider herself a thing too low, too smirched, to face her world.  The marriage, that Mahr feared and hated, would never take place.  Doubtless that evidence which Mrs. Marteen had once wielded was now in his possession and with all precautions taken he was fearless of any retaliation.  The obscurity and exile he suggested would be sought as the only issue from intolerable conditions.  No, no, a thousand times no!  Mahr had leveled his stroke at a defenseless girl, but the weapon that should parry it would be wielded by a man’s strong arm, backed by all the resources of brain and wealth.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, he had been standing erect and silent, his eyes staring at the paper that crackled in his clenched fist.  Dorothy’s voice sounded far away repeating something.  It was not till a strange hysterical note crept into her voice that he realized what she was saying.

“Speak to me, please!  What shall I do?  What ought I to do?  Tell me, tell me!”

“Do?” he exclaimed.  “Do?  Why, nothing, my dear.  It’s a damnable, treacherous snake-in-the-grass lie!  Shake it out of your pretty head, and leave me to trace this thing and deal with the scoundrel who wrote it; and I’ll promise you, my dear, that it will be such punishment as will satisfy me—­and I am not easily satisfied.”

Dorothy rose from the table.  “Mr. Gard,” she whispered, “you won’t think badly of me, will you, if I tell you something?  And you will believe it wasn’t because I believed one word of that detestable thing that I did what I did—­you promise me that?”

He could feel his face grow ashen, but his voice was very gentle.  “What was it, my dear?  Of course I know you couldn’t have noticed such a vile slander.  What do you want to tell me?”

“I was frightened.”  Dorothy raised brimming eyes to his, pleading excuse for what she felt must seem lack of faith.  “I felt as if the house were filled with dangerous people.  I wanted to see how much they really knew.  I never heard mother speak of the safe in the library.  I didn’t want to speak to Tante Lydia.  I—­”

Gard’s heart stood still.  “You went to the library and located the safe—­and then?”

“The combination they give is the right one—­I opened it with that.  Then I was so terrified that anyone—­a wicked person like that—­could know so much about things in our house—­I slammed it shut and ran away.  I could not stay in the house another minute.  I felt as if I were suffocating.”