The man sprung up, clutching again at his breast.  “You have? you have?  Give it to me.  After four years he sends me a message!  Give it to me!”

The reporter looked steadily at the man.  He knew that he was in his power, that his very eagerness would prove traitor to his discretion.

“Your brother bade me to say to you that you have a terrible secret, that you bear it in your breast—­there—­there.  I am his messenger.  He bids you to give it to me.”

Oakley had shrunken back as if he had been struck.

“No, no!” he gasped, “no, no!  I have no secret.”

The reporter moved nearer him.  The old man shrunk against the wall, his lips working convulsively and his hand tearing at his breast as Skaggs drew nearer.  He attempted to shriek, but his voice was husky and broke off in a gasping whisper.

“Give it to me, as your brother commands.”

“No, no, no!  It is not his secret; it is mine.  I must carry it here always, do you hear?  I must carry it till I die.  Go away!  Go away!”

Skaggs seized him.  Oakley struggled weakly, but he had no strength.  The reporter’s hand sought the secret pocket.  He felt a paper beneath his fingers.  Oakley gasped hoarsely as he drew it forth.  Then raising his voice gave one agonised cry, and sank to the floor frothing at the mouth.  At the cry rapid footsteps were heard in the hallway, and Mrs. Oakley threw open the door.

“What is the matter?” she cried.

“My message has somewhat upset your husband,” was the cool answer.

“But his breast is open.  Your hand has been in his bosom.  You have taken something from him.  Give it to me, or I shall call for help.”

Skaggs had not reckoned on this, but his wits came to the rescue.

“You dare not call for help,” he said, “or the world will know!”

She wrung her hands helplessly, crying, “Oh, give it to me, give it to me.  We ’ve never done you any harm.”

“But you ’ve harmed some one else; that is enough.”

He moved towards the door, but she sprang in front of him with the fierceness of a tigress protecting her young.  She attacked him with teeth and nails.  She was pallid with fury, and it was all he could do to protect himself and yet not injure her.  Finally, when her anger had taken her strength, he succeeded in getting out.  He flew down the hall-way and out of the front door, the woman’s screams following him.  He did not pause to read the precious letter until he was safe in his room at the Continental Hotel.  Then he sprang to his feet, crying, “Thank God! thank God!  I was right, and the Universe shall have a sensation.  The brother is the thief, and Berry Hamilton is an innocent man.  Hurrah!  Now, who is it that has come on a wild-goose chase?  Who is it that ought to handle his idea carefully?  Heigho, Saunders my man, the drinks ’ll be on you, and old Skaggsy will have done some good in the world.”