Dibbin shook his head like an emblem of doubt. "Of course," he said, "I shall be happy to send on anything which you commit to me." "Direct?" asked David, "or through Van Hupfeldt?" "Direct, of course," answered Dibbin. "I have no sort of instructions with respect to Mr. Van Hupfeldt." "Have you ever seen him, Dibbin?" "Never." "Don't happen to know his address?" "No; I merely knew his name quite lately by repute as that of a man of wealth about town, and as an acquaintance of the Mordaunts." "'Acquaintance' is good, as a phrase," David could not help blurting out. "Well, I have something belonging to Miss Mordaunt, and will send you a letter to forward." That day the letter was written and sent, a stiff-stark little missive, informing Miss Mordaunt that Mr. Harcourt had duly received the note left on the grave, and had once before written her to say so, as well as to tell her that he had in his possession a book which he believed to be the diary of her sister. He did not care to send it her through another, but would at once forward it on receiving a line from her. After two days came an answer: Miss Mordaunt thanked Mr. Harcourt extremely for his pains, and would be glad to receive the book to which he referred at "the above address," that address being: "The Cedars, Birdlip, Gloucestershire." David actually had the diary wrapped up to send to this address. Then he paused. The handwriting of the note was not quite like that of the note in which she had made the appointment with him at the grave. It was rather like the writing of the note which he had found with the wreath--not quite, perhaps, the same. And then again the address which she had given him by word of mouth that first evening at Kensal Green was in Warwickshire. He remembered that much, beyond doubt. Was she, then, spending some time with friends at "The Cedars" in--Gloucestershire? He thought that it might be a good thing, before sending the diary, if he took a run down into Gloucestershire to make sure that she was really there. This he did the next day, and found that "The Cedars" was a mansion two miles from the village of Birdlip, old, somewhat dismantled, shut up, occupied only by a few retainers. No Violet was there. He learned at one of the village taverns that the place was the property of Van Hupfeldt. He took the diary back to London with him that same night.