"Thomas Chatham!" he mused, as he went down the stairs; "Thomas Chatham! Why, he is the man who took such pains to inform me that Miss Murdock was betrothed, or on the point of being betrothed,--the flashily dressed young man with red hair who is so regular an attendant at the Murdocks' informal receptions, and who never seems to be invited on state occasions; an insignificant and conceited puppy. Poor girl, what a pity that she should throw herself away upon such a man. But if he marries her, he shall make her happy, or else----" The balance of his thought was not put into words; but his face became set in stern lines and his hands clenched in grim determination. * * * * * Sprague, with the letter for Miss Murdock in his hand, hurried to the nearest letter-box, raised the lid of the drop, inserted the letter in the slot and then tightened his grasp of it and began to think. The letter, if mailed, might perhaps not reach its destination until the following morning. It might be of importance, since it had been sent by messenger and to the studio instead of to Miss Murdock's house. Besides, Miss Murdock would probably be worried when she discovered that she had lost it. It ought therefore to be returned to her at once. The letter, by this time, had been withdrawn from the slot of the letter-box. Yes, it ought to be returned by messenger instead of by mail. By messenger? It was about half a mile to the nearest district-messenger office. The Murdocks' house was not much further. Why not deliver the letter himself? Why not, indeed? The human heart has unfathomable depths. Why should a hopeless lover pine for a mere sight of the woman whose presence only adds to his misery? Explain that who can. Sprague carefully placed the letter in his breast pocket and started off again, this time directing his steps toward the Murdocks' home. CHAPTER XV. TWO LOVERS. Miss Murdock was seated at the piano in the drawing-room, her shapely fingers wandering dreamily over the keys, when a servant knocked at the door. "A gintleman to see yer, Miss," said the maid. "A caller!" exclaimed Agnes in surprise. "At this time of day? Did he give you his card?" "No, miss. Nor his name nayther." "Well then, Mary," said Agnes, with a mixture of amusement and severity, "why do you announce him? I think you would better keep an eye on the hat-rack." "He aint no thafe, Miss," said the maid, positively; "he do be dressed up too foine fur that. Besoides, Oi've sane him here before. A hansum young feller wid rid hair----Mister----Mister----Cha----Chapman." "Chatham!" suggested Agnes, with sudden seriousness. "Yis, Miss; it do be the same." "I cannot receive him," said Miss Murdock in frigid tones. "I am surprised that John should have admitted him, after the explicit instructions I gave him yesterday. Hereafter I am never at home to Mr. Chatham."