I read and re-read this strange epistle with great care, before I made any comment upon it. There was nothing, to my mind, objectionable in any of the contents. I had been twice to Harley Street during the summer, and found Marmaduke as morbidly apprehensive as ever of some course of conduct to be adopted by his uncle with reference to regaining the custody of his person; he was haunted still by the shadow of this terrible man. The words I held before me were certainly calculated to reassure him. No news could be more gratifying than this positive resignation of the baronet's claim to be his guardian, this final "good-bye" under Sir Massingberd's own hand. As for the political advice, I thought that very healthy. I was then, as now, a staunch conservative, and although I did not sympathize in the least with the harsh acts of the government in respect to poor, misguided men, not without their wrongs, yet I did think Mr. Gerard's views both visionary and dangerous. "I trust," observed Sir Massingberd, gravely, "that the sentiments which you are now perusing are in accordance with your own. I am speaking, I believe, to a gentleman, and consequently to a natural friend of order." I bowed in assent. "There certainly seems nothing in this epistle which Marmaduke might not read," muttered I, musing. "<i>Seems?</i>" cried the baronet. "Why not say <i>is</i> at once?" A sudden idea, gleaned from some romance which I had been lately reading, flashed across my brain. Why did the postscript say, "Burn this when you have read it?" I let my hand, with the letter in it, drop below my knee, so that the missive was held close to the fire. "There is no writing in lemon-juice, I do assure you," observed Sir Massingberd, quietly; "you will only scorch the paper." I coloured at the exposure of my suspicions, and in my confusion it did not strike me that the speaker must himself have at least entertained such a project, or he never could have unmasked me so readily. I was a little ashamed of myself, and rather sorry for my incredulity. Sir Massingberd saw this, and pressed his point. "Since there is nothing concealed, and no harm in what is visible, I do hope you will grant the favour I requested, and inclose that note to my nephew." "Well, sir," said I, after a little hesitation, "I will inclose it. I give you warning, however, that I shall send a line by the same post to let Mr. Gerard know that I have done so." "By all means," responded Sir Massingberd. "I am only anxious that my nephew's own eyes should read what I have written. Have you a taper and wax?" asked he, folding up the sheet. "I might as well stamp it with my seal." I rose and brought what he required from a writing-table. Sir Massingberd sealed the letter, and gave it into my hand.