Which seemed a strange soliloquy for a well-dressed man in a first-class carriage. And what might have seemed almost stranger, had there been any way of knowing such a recondite fact, was that in one of the mail bags reposing in the back of the train, a mysterious transformation had taken place. For a letter which had originally contained two documents and had been addressed to J. Perrison, Esq., now contained three and was consigned to Miss Sybil Daventry. Which merely goes to show how careful one should be over posting letters. IV “Good evening, Mr. Perrison. All well, and taking nourishment, so to speak?” Archie Longworth lounged into the hall, almost colliding with the other man. “You look pensive,” he continued, staring at him blandly. “_Agitato, fortissimo._ Has aught occurred to disturb your masterly composure?” But Mr. Perrison was in no mood for fooling: a message he had just received over the telephone had very considerably disturbed his composure. “Let me have a look at that paper,” he snapped, making a grab at it. “Tush! Tush!” murmured Archie. “Manners, laddie, manners! You’ve forgotten that little word.” And then at the far end of the hall he saw the girl, and caught his breath. For the last two days he had almost forgotten her in the stress of other things; now the bitterness of what had to come rose suddenly in his throat and choked him. “There is the paper. Run away and play in a corner.” Then he went forward to meet her with his usual lazy smile. “What’s happened?” she cried, a little breathlessly. “Heaps of things,” he said, gently. “Heaps of things. The principal one being that a very worthless sinner loves a very beautiful girl—as he never believed it could be given to man to love.” His voice broke and faltered: then he went on steadily. “And the next one—which is really even more important—is that the very beautiful girl will receive a letter in a long envelope by to-night’s mail. The address will be typed, the postmark Strand. I do not want the beautiful girl to open it except in my presence. You understand?” “I understand,” she whispered, and her eyes were shining. “Have you seen this?” Perrison’s voice—shaking with rage—made Longworth swing round. “Seen what, dear lad?” he murmured, taking the paper. “Robbery in City—is that what you mean? Dear, dear—what dastardly outrages do go unpunished these days! Messrs. Smith and Co. Really! Watchman bound and gagged. Safe rifled. Work of a master hand. Still, though I quite understand your horror as a law-abiding citizen at such a thing, why this thusness? I mean—altruism is wonderful, laddie; but it seems to me that it’s jolly old Smith and Co. who are up the pole.” He burbled on genially, serenely unconscious of the furious face of the other man. “I’m trying to think where I’ve met you before, Mr. Longworth,” snarled Perrison.