I've promised him a private reward for any clue, and he told me he would lay off and go on a still hunt.
"He knows how to communicate always with me," concluded Witherspoon, "and I will bring him into our circle, if you can gain Alice Worthington's confidence." The great metropolis had almost forgotten Randall Clayton's mysterious taking off, when, a week later, there was a sad gathering in Woodlawn Cemetery, where Doctor Atwater supported on his arm the black-robed figure of the great heiress, when the red earth rattled down upon the murdered man's coffin.
There was a scanty two-score of mourners around the open grave; but Atwater felt the nervous thrill of the girl's arm as she turned away.

"Justice to his memory, reparation for the past," murmured Alice Worthington.

"I leave the punishment of his betrayers to the vengeance of the God above, the One who knows all." It was with a thrill of coming triumph that Atwater listened to the heiress when she drew him aside, in the great Stillwell drawing-rooms, on their return.
"You were Randall's one true friend here," the noble girl cried.
"These great lawyers are bound up in the affairs of millions.

My friends, the executors, have given up all present hope; they must return to Detroit; even Mr.Stillwell and the police authorities are in despair.
"Mr.Witherspoon will be tied to the routine of the great business; but you can aid me.

Give me all your time, work with your friend, for I will follow up this mystery until my foster-brother's name is cleared of stain, and justice is done.