He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again. “One is from Trevetz,” he said slowly, “and the other from Mrs. Strawd.” “Nothing from Mr. Bodery?” asked she indifferently. He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:-- “No, nothing from Mr. Bodery; so I am free as yet.” “I am very glad,” she murmured conventionally. “And I,” he said, turning with a polite smile to hand her the letter. She took the envelope, and holding it up in both hands examined it critically. “M-a-x,” she read; “how badly it is written! Max--Max Talma--is that it?” “Yes,” he answered gravely, “that is it.” With a little laugh and a shrug of her shoulders she proceeded to open the envelope. It contained nothing but the sketch made upon the fly-leaf of a novel. Christian was watching her face. She continued to smile as she unfolded the paper. Then she suddenly became grave, and handed the open sketch to him. At the foot was written:-- “Max Talma--look out! Avoid him as you would the devil! “In haste, C.T.” Christian read it, laughed carelessly, and thrust the paper into his pocket. “Trevetz writes in a good forcible style,” he said, turning to greet Molly, who came, singing, downstairs at this moment. For an instant her merry eyes assumed a scrutinising, almost anxious look as she caught sight of her sister and Christian standing together. “Are you just down?” she asked carelessly. “Yes,” answered Christian, still holding her hand. “I have just come down.” As usual the day's pleasure was all prearranged. A groom rode to the station at Christian's request with a large envelope on which was printed Mr. Bodery's name and address. This was to be given to the guard, who would in his turn hand it to a special messenger at Paddington, and the editor of the _Beacon_ would receive it by four o'clock in the afternoon. The day was fine, with a fresh breeze, and the programme of pleasure was satisfactorily carried out. But with sunset the wind freshened into a brisk gale, and heavy clouds rolled upwards from the western horizon. This was the first suggestion of autumn, the first sigh of dying summer. The lamps were lighted a few minutes earlier that night, and the family assembled in the drawing-room soon after dark, although the windows were left open for those who wished to pass in and out. Mrs. Carew's grey head was, as usual, bent over some simple needlework, while Molly sat near at hand. According to her wont she also was busy, while around her the work lay strewed in picturesque disorder. Sidney was reading in his own room--reading for a vague law examination which always appeared to have been lately postponed till next October.