It began by reminding its recipient that he was passing under an assumed name, that he was really Grosjean, not Grandisson; then referred to the “working off” of certain Dutch ducats; proceeded to complain that he had been robbed of his fourteen thousand gulden by having soldiers quartered upon him; and finished as follows: “All are consumed but a few hundred gulden. I do not make demands upon you as a beggar but on the current value of what you know.... I sign an assumed name.... Write to me poste restante.... If you do not write, be assured, as certainly as that God will yet judge my soul, I shall be compelled to make public what I know.... This you would surely avoid because of the dishonour and the loss of the consideration you enjoy.... You are perfectly well aware that I have kept silence for years ... but yet I hold the damning proofs and shall use them unless you accept my terms. Nevertheless, if you act fairly by me the proofs shall be destroyed and the guilty deed with them.” This letter threw very serious aspersions on Grandisson’s character. It hinted that his real name was Grosjean and that he had at some time or other committed a crime or a dishonourable action, either in conjunction with the writer or with his knowledge, the publication of which must ruin him, and that he was consequently being blackmailed by his correspondent. There was nothing in the letter, however, to inculpate Madame Grandisson. On the contrary, the anonymous writer mentioned her with great respect, and the agitation of mind she displayed in her appeal to her husband testified to her innocence and showed that there was less reason than ever to proceed against her. Efforts were still made to tamper with her correspondence, but in vain, for she was very wary and used the utmost caution in posting her letters. At last, however, one was intercepted and was thought compromising. “Since you left thirteen days ago, I have no news of you,” it ran. “Write me the number of the house where I am to address my letters. Now attend to me. How would it be were I to pack most of my belongings and give them into the charge of Herr Klein, and only take with me exactly what I require, until I am certain where I am to live? I do not think I could have anything in common with your relations; I have too vivid a recollection of their vulgarity and rapaciousness. It would be best for you to hire a lodging for me with decent, respectable people, so that when I arrive I can be with you; even for yourself it is not advisable that you should lodge with your relatives. I will not stop with them even for one night. Farewell.” This letter certainly gave the impression that Madame Grandisson was initiated partially, at least, into her husband’s secrets, and as she was evidently now making preparations for escaping from Heidelberg, she was more closely watched than ever. Her behaviour was unaltered as she was not aware that her letter had been intercepted. The address on the