“I have dismissed the sheriff and his posse, and I gave them a hundred dollars for their work, and three bottles of pretty good whiskey I had on my car.  Unless they get orders from elsewhere, you will not hear any further from them.

“You must let me reimburse what expense we have put you to, Mr. Gordon.  I only wish I could as easily repay your kindness.”

Nodding my head in assent, as well as in recognition of his thanks, I continued, “It was my duty, as an official of the K. & A., to recover the stolen mail, and I had to do it.”

“We understand that,” said Mr. Cullen, “and do not for a moment blame you.”

“But,” I went on, for the first time looking at Madge, “it is not my duty to take part in a contest for control of the K. & A., and I shall therefore act in this case as I should in any other loss of mail.”

“And that is—?” asked Frederic.

“I am about to telegraph for instructions from Washington,” I replied.  “As the G.S. by trickery has dishonestly tied up some of your proxies, they ought not to object if we do the same by honest means; and I think I can manage so that Uncle Sam will prevent those proxies from being voted at Ash Fork on Friday.”

If a galvanic battery had been applied to the group about the breakfast table, it wouldn’t have made a bigger change.  Madge clapped her hands in joy; Mr. Cullen said “God bless you!” with real feeling; Frederic jumped up and slapped me on the shoulder, crying, “Gordon, you’re the biggest old trump breathing;” while Albert and the captain shook hands with each other, in evident jubilation.  Only Lord Ralles remained passive.

“Have you breakfasted?” asked Mr. Cullen, when the first joy was over.

“Yes,” I said.  “I only stopped in on my way to the station to telegraph the Postmaster-General.”

“May I come with you and see what you say?” cried Fred, jumping up.

I nodded, and Miss Cullen said, questioningly, “Me too?” making me very happy by the question, for it showed that she would speak to me.  I gave an assent quite as eagerly and in a moment we were all walking toward the platform.  Despite Lord Ralles, I felt happy, and especially as I had not dreamed that she would ever forgive me.

I took a telegraph blank, and, putting it so that Miss Cullen could see what I said, wrote—­

“Postmaster-General, Washington, D.C.  I hold, awaiting your instructions, the three registered letters stolen from No. 3 Overland Missouri Western Express on Monday, October fourteenth, loss of which has already been notified you.”

Then I paused and said, “So far, that’s routine, Miss Cullen.  Now comes the help for you,” and I continued—­

“The letters may have been tampered with, and I recommend a special agent.  Reply Flagstaff, Arizona.  RICHARD GORDON, Superintendent K. & A.R.R.”

“What will that do?” she asked.

“I’m not much at prophecy, and we’ll wait for the reply,” I said.