The three visitors all came in together, having met at the door. Mark, with a great effort, put aside the letter from his mind, and a cheerful evening was spent. They had much to tell of their travels, many questions to ask about the parish and their mutual friends and the neighborhood generally, and when they rose to go Mark said: “Would you mind riding over again tomorrow morning, Dick? I have a letter to read to you that will interest you greatly.” “Certainly. What time shall I be here?” “Say at eleven o'clock. It is a long epistle, and will take us an hour to get through; after that we can stroll round, and, of course, you will stop to lunch. “I should be glad if you and Mrs. Greg can come over too,” he added, turning to the Rector; “you will be much interested also in the matter.” The next day the party met in the library at the hour named. “I may tell you, Mr. Greg, that I specially asked you and your wife here because this letter throws some light on Arthur Bastow's connection with my father's murder; you were friends with his father, and I think you ought to know. As to you, Dick, the letter will interest you from beginning to end, and will surprise as much as it will interest you.” “Even I don't know what it is, Mrs. Greg,” Millicent said. “I know it quite upset Mark yesterday, but he said he would sooner I did not know anything about it until today, as he did not want me to be saddened on the first evening of our return home. Now, please go on, Mark; you have said quite enough to excite us all.” Mark had read but a short distance when Dick Chetwynd exclaimed: “Then Ramoo was at the bottom of that Indian business, after all. I almost wonder you never suspected it, Mark.” “Well, I hardly could do so,” Mark said, “when my uncle was so fond of him, and he had served him so faithfully.” As he approached the point at which he had laid down the letter on the previous evening, Millicent's color faded. Suddenly an exclamation of horror broke from her when he read the last line. “Oh, Mark,” she said, with quivering lips, “don't say it was Ramoo. He always seemed so kind and good.” “It was here I stopped last night,” he said, “but I fear there can be no doubt about it. I must say that it is evident from this letter, that no thought of doing my father harm was in his mind when he placed that ladder against the window. Now I will go on.” The letter continued as follows: