"Yours, etc. "X----." As the full force of this communication became apparent to the unfortunate Secretary, he sunk back in his chair, groaning in an agony of mortification. "Dear, dear, sir!" cried John, who had been meditatively regarding the bottom of his empty glass. "You don't mean to tell me as they've got away." The messenger, it may be remarked, not being supposed, technically, to know any official secrets, knew more than most of his superiors. "Oh, it isn't that, it's a thousand times worse than that! I'm such an infernal fool! John, I've had those instructions in my possession." "You have!" cried the messenger, much excited. "Yes. Had them for three days in the inside pocket of my dress-suit, and being the greatest idiot in the diplomatic service, I never even suspected what they were, and gave them back to the man who wrote them." "What, Riddle?" Stanley groaned, and bowed his head. "Dear, dear," said John, gravely, "I'm afraid it's a bad business, sir." And noticing that the Secretary was absorbed in his own woes, he judged it a favourable opportunity to replenish his glass, which he thoughtfully consumed, while the unfortunate diplomat poured out to the old messenger, who was distinctly the _deus ex machina_ of his Legation, and who had helped him out of many a tight place in the past, the story of the letter. How he had received it, how he had been induced to give it up, and finally how it reached its present destination. "Well," he said despairingly, in conclusion, "what do you think, John?" "Hit's hall the woman, sir. Take my word for hit, hit's hall the woman," replied that functionary, with dignity. "What, Miss Fitzgerald?" John nodded, with the solemnity befitting so weighty a dictum. "You old idiot!" cried Stanley. "It's nothing of the sort. Miss Fitzgerald's share in this matter was merely a coincidence." "Didn't you tell me has it was she suggested your taking han hold letter to keep score hon, knowing well you 'ad _the letter_ in your hinside pocket hall the time?" "Nonsense!" exclaimed the Secretary. "How could she have known anything about it? She had never laid eyes on the letter till I produced it." "Mr. Stanley," returned the messenger, with a dignity against which the two glasses he had consumed struggled unsuccessfully, "h'I've fostered young gentlemen, an' got h'em hout hof scrapes, an' taught h'em their ha, b, c's of diplomacy, afore you was weaned, han' I knows whereof h'I speaks, h'I tells yer, hit's the woman!" "I wish you'd get me out of this scrape. I'd be your friend for life." "That's heasy enough. You _must_ get the letter." "But how--I tell you----" "Get it," reiterated the messenger, whose potations had made him optimistic. "Blow this bally hold barn into the next county, hif need be, but open that door and get it." The Secretary looked despairingly at the despatch, and tossing it to John, said: "And what am I to answer to this?"