Early as he was at the rendezvous Audrey was still earlier, and came towards him hurriedly, a pathetic figure in her black dress. She kissed him hastily, then at once announced the reason why she had sent for him. "I have received an anonymous letter," said Audrey, unexpectedly. "An anonymous letter," repeated Ralph, curiously. "What about?" "You can read it for yourself." She produced it from her pocket. "It advises me to refrain from investigating the murder of my mother. If I do, it declares that I shall suffer the greatest grief of my life." Shawe was evidently startled. "Show me the letter," he said abruptly. CHAPTER IX THE QUESTION OF THE CLOCK Audrey handed over a dingy envelope, bearing the London postmark, and addressed to her at the Camden Hill house. Out of this Shawe took an equally dingy piece of paper--a single sheet of very cheap stationery. On it a few lines in vile caligraphy were scrawled. He read them at once, while Audrey sat down on a near chair and watched him silently. "DEAR MISS"--ran the anonymous letter,--"This is to warn you from invistigiting your poor ma's deth, as I know you are doing. Keip off the gras and don't be silly, or you will sueffer the gratest grief of your life. This is from one who sines as you see--A FREND." "What do you think of it?" asked the girl, when her lover silently replaced the paper in its envelope and sat down beside her. "I think there may be something in it," said Shawe, slowly. "I wonder--" "You wonder what?" "If it would not be as well to take the advice of this," and he tapped the envelope as he handed it back to her. "No!" cried Audrey, her worn face flushing. "A thousand times no. I shall learn the truth at all costs." "But if it leads to more sorrow, dear?" "I don't care what it leads to. To know the worst--whatever the worst may be--is better than this terrible suspense." She looked at the dingy communication dubiously. "I wonder who wrote this?" "An uneducated person, apparently." "I don't believe it," declared the girl, quickly. "All that bad spelling and bad writing is intended to mislead." Shawe shook his head. "How can you be sure of that?" "I am sure of nothing. I am only assuming that such is the case. But, at all events, the person who wrote this letter knows that the matter of the death is being looked into." "I don't see who can possibly know, save you and myself and Perry Toat." "Who is Perry Toat?" "The detective whom I am employing to search." "What has he found out?" "She, dear. Miss Toat's name is Peronella Toat, and she calls herself Perry on her card for business reasons. She has found out nothing very tangible, and confines herself to theorising a lot." Ralph paused, and shook his head once more. "I fancy she is growing tired of the case." And he related Perry Toat's discoveries--such as they were--and also detailed her theories. When he ended Audrey was almost as despairing as he appeared to be.