“At least,” rapped out Garrick, himself smothering his alarm, “they can’t do anything immediately.  It gives us time to prepare and warn.  Besides, before that we may have them rounded up.  The time has come for something desperate.  I won’t be trifled with any longer.  This last proposal goes just over the limit.”

As for me, I was speechless.  The events of the past two days, the almost sleepless nights had sapped my energy.  Even Garrick, though he was a perfect glutton for work, felt the strain.

It was very late, or rather very early, and we determined to snatch a few moments of sleep at the Old Tavern before the rest of the world awoke to the new day.  It was only a couple of hours that we could spare, but it was absolutely necessary.

In spite of our fatigue, we were up again early and after another try at the phony ’phone which told us that only the men were working in the garage, we were on our way up to Garrick’s apartment.

We had scarcely entered when the telephone boy called up to say that there was a Mr. Warrington on long distance trying to get us.  Garrick eagerly asked to have him put on our wire.

Warrington, it seemed, had been informed of the fire by one of his agents and was inquiring anxiously for details, especially about the letter.  Garrick quickly apologised for not calling up himself, and relieved his anxiety by assuring him that the letter was safe.

“And how are you?” he asked of Warrington.

“Convalescing rapidly,” laughed back the patient, to whom the loss of anything was a mere bagatelle beside the letter.  Garrick had not told him yet of the stealing of the other letters.  “Getting along fine,—­thanks to a new tonic which Dr. Mead has prescribed for me.”

“I can guess what it is.”

Warrington laughed again.  “Yes—­I’ve been allowed to take short motor trips with Violet,” he explained.

The natural manner in which “Violet” replaced “Miss Winslow” indicated that the trips had not been without result.

“Say, Warrington,” burst out Garrick, seeing an opportunity of introducing the latest news, “I hate to butt in, but if you’ll take my advice, you’ll just cut out those trips a few days.  I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily, but after to-day I want Miss Winslow never to be out of sight of friends—­friends, I said; not one, but several.”

“Why—­what’s the matter?” demanded Warrington in alarm.

“I can’t explain it all over the telephone,” replied Garrick, sketching out hastily something of what we had overheard.  “I’ll try to see you before long—­perhaps to-day.  Don’t forget.  I want you to warn Miss Winslow yourself.  You can’t put it too strongly.  Use your judgment about Mrs. de Lancey.  I don’t want to get you in wrong with her.  But, remember, it’s a matter of life or death—­or perhaps worse.  Try to do it without unnecessarily alarming Miss Winslow, if you can.  Just fix it up as quietly as possible.  But be positive about it.  No, I can’t explain more over the wire now.  But—­no more outings for either of you, and particularly Miss Winslow, until I raise the ban.”