I would not show it to any one else.

Here, read it yourself." "Come to the house at the top of the hill, in Dalton, to-morrow night at eight o'clock.

But do not come if you lack courage." That was all.

Cathewe ran a finger, comb-fashion, through his mustache.

He almost smiled.
"Where the deuce _is_ Dalton ?" Fitzgerald inquired.
"It is a little village on the New Jersey coast; not more than forty houses, post-office, hotel, and general store; perhaps an hour out of town." "What would you do in my place?
It may be a joke, and then again it may not.