The boy looked at Ray beseechingly, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and finally, unable to withstand Ray’s fixed gaze, he snuffled violently. “I ain’t dun nuffin,” he mumbled. “That remains to be seen,” said Ray, with a half smile, as he took the boy by the ear. “Now, Ridley, listen to me. Do you remember that very rainy Wednesday of last week?” “Yes, sah.” “Do you remember getting the mail that morning?” “Yes, sah.” “Do you remember any letters for me that morning?” “No, sah.” “No letters for me?” “Dere wan’t no letters for you that mawnin, sah.” “Ridley!” exclaimed Ray, with real severity this time. “There _was_ a letter for me in that mail. Now, what became of it?” Ridley was growing more and more frightened, but no sign of guilt appeared on his ebony countenance. “I’s tellin’ no lies, Mistah Wendell. I swar to golly I’s tellin’ no lies. Der wan’t no letter for you.” “Are you sure you remember the mail?” asked Ray. “Yes, sah, perfeckly.” “Who had letters that morning?” “Dere was only five or six letters. I didn’t look at ’em at de post offiss, but when I kem up to de door right here, Mistah――le’s see, who was it?――Mistah, Mistah, oh, Mistah Howard was standin’ by de doorway.” “Howard was there, was he?” “Yes, sah, an’ he sez, ‘Ridley, hev ye got de mail?’ an’ I sez, ‘Yes, sah,’ an’ he sez, ‘Let me look at it,’ an’ I gived de letters ter him――――” “You gave the letters to Howard that morning? Ridley, are you sure?” exclaimed Ray, letting go of the boy. “Perfeckly. Mistah Howard took de letters, an’ he luks ’em over, an’ he sez, ‘Dese two is mine,’ an’ he gives me back de rest.” “He kept two, did he? Well, did you see those letters?” “No, sah, I didn’t see de names. He gived me back t’ree or four, and none of _dem_ was fer you. I s’posed Mistah Howard unly kep’ his own letters.” “And there were two of them?” “Yes, sah, I knows dere was two; one was white an’ de udder pink.” “What!” cried Ray. “You say one was _pink_?” “Yes, sah. I remember dat letter well. I tuk notiss of it wen I got it at de post office, and when Mistah Howard gived me back de udder letters dat pink one was gone.” Ray was silent for several minutes, his lips pressed firmly together. At length he said quietly. “All right, Ridley. Much obliged to you. That will do.” Ridley disappeared down the cellar stairs, and Ray turned to me a long look of astonishment. “Well, what――do――you――think――of that?” he asked slowly. I shook my head. “And so Howard took that letter!” I exclaimed. “So it seems,” Ray answered, “and I must say it takes my breath away. Whatever may have been said of Howard, I never thought him a petty thief.” “Hold on, Ray Wendell!” cried a voice just behind us. We both started and turned about. Not six feet away stood Len Howard. We were somewhat taken aback by this sudden and unexpected appearance of the very individual whose name was upon our lips. Silence reigned for several seconds.