When Knowles reappeared the Duke handed him the curious epistle with which he had been favoured. "Read that, and tell me what you think of it." Knowles read it. His countenance was even more of a mask than the Duke's. He evinced no sign of astonishment. "I am inclined, your Grace, to think that it's a hoax." "A hoax! I don't know what you call a hoax! That is not a hoax!" The Duke held out the lock of hair which had fallen from the envelope. "I have compared it with the hair in my locket, and it is the Duchess's hair." "May I look at it?" The Duke handed it to Knowles. Knowles examined it closely. "It resembles her Grace's hair." "Resembles! It is her hair." Knowles still continued to reflect. He offered a suggestion. "Shall I send for the police?" "The police! What's the good of sending for the police? If what that letter says is true, by the time I have succeeded in making a thick-skulled constable understand what has happened the Duchess will be--will be mutilated!" The Duke turned away as if the thought were frightful--as, indeed, it was. "Is that all you can suggest?" "Unless your Grace proposes taking the five hundred pounds." One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. But before he could answer another servant entered, who also brought a letter for the Duke. When his Grace's glance fell on it he uttered an exclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that had been on the envelope which had contained the very singular communication--like it in all respects down to the broomstick-end thickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner. "Who brought this?" stormed the Duke. The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of his Grace's manner. "A lady--or, at least, your Grace, she seemed to be a lady." "Where is she?" "She came in a hansom, your Grace. She gave me that letter, and said, 'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' Then she got into the hansom again, and drove away." "Why didn't you stop her?" "Your Grace!" The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping chance visitors to the ducal mansion _vi et armis_ had not, until that moment, entered into his philosophy. The Duke continued to regard the man as if he could say a good deal, if he chose. Then he pointed to the door. His lips said nothing, but his gesture much. The servant vanished. "Another hoax!" the Duke said, grimly, as he tore the envelope open. This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet of paper another envelope. The Duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it some words were written. These: "The Duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, that one really hasn't the heart to refuse her. Her Grace's communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will find enclosed with this."