"Mrs. Wevelspoke, let me look at the letter, please," cried Judith, impatiently, taking the envelope from the old woman. "I can tell you if it's for me in a moment." It certainly was not for her, as the direction was plain enough: "M. Jules Guinaud c/o Wosk & Co., Chemists, Suburban Ironfields." "No, it's not for me," said Miss Varlins, handing it back reluctantly with a sigh of regret. "But are you sure you have no packet addressed to Miss Judith?" "It ain't for her," said Mrs. Wevelspoke, putting the Frenchman's letter into the pigeon-hole marked "J." "You want a letter, I s'pose, miss?" "Yes." "There ain't no Varlins," said Mrs. Wevelspoke, after a cursory glance at the "V's". "No, miss, your letters is all sent to the 'All." "This letter I want was addressed to Miss Judith, and would not be sent to the Hall." "To 'Judas'?" said Mrs. Wevelspoke, catching the name wrongly. "Ho, his letters go to the shop, mum." "I thought as much," remarked a quiet voice behind Miss Varlins, as she turned to find herself face to face with the speaker and Roger Axton. "We've been listening, Miss Varlins," explained Roger, hastily, as she shook hands with him. Then seeing the startled look on her face, he went on hurriedly: "I can explain the reason, but first let me introduce Mr. Rixton, a friend of mine." Judith bowed coldly, and waited for Roger's promised explanation, which was to be given by the gentleman called Mr. Rixton. "Allow me, my dear Roger," he said, genially. "The fact is, Miss Varlins, my friend here told me about this packet of letters addressed to you as 'Miss Judith,' and I put forward a theory accounting for their non-delivery, so Mr. Axton and myself came here to see if my theory was correct." "But what is your theory?" asked Judith, rather bewildered. "That the letters were delivered by that old woman to Monsieur Judas, instead of to you." "But Judas is a nickname," said Miss Varlins, quickly; "all his letters would be addressed to Monsieur Guinaud." "Quite correct," replied Octavius, quietly, "but with such an unintelligent postmistress mistakes are sure to occur. I'm pretty certain she delivered the packet to our red-headed friend, and I'm going to try to find out. You posted the packet at Jarlchester on the 13th of this month, did you not, Roger?" "Yes; on the morning of the 13th." "Then it would get to London late in the afternoon, and go on to Ironfields at once. I should think it would be ready for delivering here about midday on the 15th. Did you call here on the 15th, Miss Varlins?" "No; I did not expect the packet so soon. But I came next day." "Too late, I'm afraid," said Octavius, advancing to the counter. "Here, old lady. Was there a letter here on the 15th, directed to Miss Judith?" "Judas!" replied Mrs. Wevelspoke for the second time. "Drat it, what's come to the man, sir, as you're all talkin' of him? He's at Wosk's if you want him."