Not a very intimate or personal appellation, that--but he knew her by no other.

It WAS a woman, surely--the hand-writing was feminine, the diction eminently so--and had SHE not come herself that night to Jason! He remembered the last letter, apart from the one to-night, that he had received from her.

It was a year ago now--and the letter had been hardly more than a note.

The police had worked themselves into a frenzy over the Gray Seal, the papers had grown absolutely maudlin--and she had written, in her characteristic way: Things are a little too warm, aren't they, Jimmie?
Let's let them cool for a year.
Since then until to-night he had heard nothing from her.

It was a strange compact that he had entered into--so strange that it could never have known, could never know a parallel--unique, dangerous, bizarre, it was all that and more.