“Who was the person?” asked Latimer, while Alan winced, quite expecting to hear the name of Sorley. “Sha’n’t tell.” “Do you know the name?” “Yessir. Leastways I spelled it out fro’ th’ letter. Oh I’ve ’ad schoolin’, I ’ave, gents both, and knows m’ letters somehow.” “What is this letter?” asked Alan in a peremptory tone. “A letter es the cove es came wrote sayin’ he’d come. I never sawr him es wrote the letter,” explained Jotty, “cos, after I seed the peacock on th’ night; him es wos good t’ me turned me out to dos elsewheres. But I fun’ the letter I did in them ole clothes.” “Whose old clothes?” “Him es wos good t’ me.” “Mr. Grison?” “Yessir. He fell an’ got covered with mud like. An’ he ses t’ me he’d like me t’ taike the mud orf, and I did. In th’ coat I fun’ th’ letter, an’ wrapped up marbles in it. I furgot t’ put it back,” added Jotty in an apologetic manner, “an’ es he es wos good t’ me didn’t ask fur no letter, I never said anything, I didn’t, nohow.” “When was this?” questioned Alan anxiously. “On the day afore he es wos good t’ me wos made a dead un.” “Have you the letter?” “Yes sir!” and Jotty clutched the breast of his ill-fitting jacket, “but I want another quid or two for it.” “You know how to make a bargain, young man,” said Latimer humorously; “just hand over that letter at once.” “I sha’n’t. So there,” said Jotty, turning obstinate again. “It’s wuth another quid anyhow. An’ I sawr him es wrote it when he called t’ see him es wos good t’ me afore.” “Oh this person called to see Mr. Grison before, did he.” “Onct or twice he did. Allays at night, and then they torks.” “What about?” “I dunno, sir. I never heard. Him es was good t’ me, he allays turned me out wen the gent came.” “Oh,” said Dick meditatively, “so this visitor was a gent?” “Yes sir. A real gent, wiff slap-up clothes and——” The description sounded like that of Sorley, and Alan stretched out his hand. “I want that letter, you imp?” he said impressively. “Give me a quid an’ it’s yours.” Fuller shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Latimer, who nodded. It was unpleasant being dictated to by a boy, but the issues were so great that Dick’s nod intimated it was best to agree, and get the epistle in question with the least possible trouble. Money was scarce with Fuller, but so anxious was he to arrive at the truth that he reluctantly brought forth another sovereign. Jotty clawed it and went through the same ceremony. He then produced a letter written on very excellent paper, which was dirty with having been in his pocket for some length of time, probably to wrap up the marbles he had mentioned. In his anxiety Dick rose and looked over his friend’s shoulder to read the letter. It did not take long, as it only consisted of a date, a line and the writer’s initials as follows, on a plain sheet of gray note-paper without any address:— “11 _November_. “Will see you seven o’clock, 13: 11: 08. “R. V. S.”