"That is not for a few days," groaned Horran, in a piteous tone. "Oh, send for him, Clarry. I must see him about the letter." "What letter, dear?" she asked, much puzzled. Horran raised his heavy lids with an effort. "The letter which I found on the terrace, near the window. It gave me a shock." "Show it to me, Uncle Henry." "No! You would not understand. Daniel might; he's so clever." "Who wrote this letter?" coaxed Clarice, trying to get information. "There is no writing," he answered, drowsily. "It is not a letter." "You said that it was." "Picture writing, then, like the ancient Egyptians." She thought, naturally, that his mind was wandering, when he talked in so contradictory a manner. After a moment or so, his head fell back on the chair, and his eyes closed. He began to breathe deeply, and apparently was falling asleep. Clarice put her ear to his lips, as she saw them move, and caught three words, which conveyed nothing: "The--Purple--Fern!" This was unintelligible, until she noticed an envelope at his feet, which had fallen out of his pocket. Picking this up, she took out the slip of paper it contained, and found thereon, no writing, but the representation of a tiny fern, stamped in purple ink. CHAPTER V THE VICAR There seemed to Clarice to be a familiar look about this representation of a fern. The double sheet of writing paper was thick and glossy, with untrimmed edges, and on this the curved fern, with its fronds wonderfully delicate and distinct, had evidently been impressed with an india-rubber stamp, moistened with purple ink. The square-sized envelope bore no address, no stamp, and no seal. What could one make of such a missive? It appeared meaningless, yet to Clarice the fern itself recalled some faint memory. Probably that memory, whatever it might be, was clearer to Horran, and so had given him the shock of which he had complained. After some consideration, Clarice slipped the envelope and sheet of paper into her pocket, thinking it advisable to remove them from Horran's sight. He had fallen into a deep sleep, and was breathing almost imperceptibly, his face looking singularly calm and unwrinkled. Whatever his disease might be, he certainly was not suffering pain; but it was strange that after a ten hours' sleep, he should again relapse into slumber. Still, from his looks there was no cause for alarm, so Clarice touched the bell, and when Chalks entered, she pointed silently to his unconscious master.