"It is as I thought," said Octavius, anticipating their questions; "the postman told me he delivered the packet to Judas." Judith uttered an exclamation of horror, upon hearing which the detective glanced sharply at her. "Are you afraid of Judas seeing those letters?" he asked, quickly. Miss Varlins passed her handkerchief across her dry lips, and after a pause answered with great deliberation, showing thereby how strong was her self-control. "I don't know anything of the man," she said, quickly, "beyond that he was a friend of Mr. Melstane; but that in itself is sufficient to make me anxious. The letters contain nothing more than the usual romantic nonsense a girl would write. At the same time, knowing this Frenchman to be, as I verily believe, an unscrupulous wretch, I am afraid he may use the letters for his own ends." "But what can he gain by showing them," said Fanks, sagaciously, "seeing they contain nothing of importance?" He spoke with such pointed significance and emphasis that Judith, fiery-tempered by nature, flashed out suddenly with great spirit. "I don't know how much Mr. Axton has told you, sir, but I question your right to speak to me in this manner." "Oh, Fanks doesn't mean anything," interposed Roger, unthinkingly. "Fanks!" cried Judith, with a start, looking at Octavius, "I thought your name was Rixton?" "My real name is Rixton," said Fanks, glancing reproachfully at Roger, "but I use the name of Octavius Fanks--" "For your detective business," finished Judith, coolly. "Oh, you need not look surprised, sir. I have read the Jarlchester Mystery, and I know you have the case in hand." "If that is so, perhaps you will help me in the matter?" "I--I cannot help you," she said, faintly, again passing the handkerchief over her lips. "You can in one way," said Fanks, quietly. She looked at him sharply, but unable to read anything on his impassive countenance, threw herself back in the carriage with an uneasy laugh. "How so?" "By letting me read those letters now in the possession of Judas." "No!" She said it so firmly that both Fanks and Axton glanced at her in surprise, upon which she leaned forward with a pale face, and spoke hurriedly. "There is nothing--really nothing in those letters beyond foolish girlish talk; I assure you, Mr. Rixton, there is nothing at all." "Then why refuse to let me see them?" asked Octavius, quickly. "They are private." "Not when the law desires to see them. I am the law, and I intend to see those letters." "What do you mean, Fanks?" said Roger, angrily, indignant at this tone being used to Miss Varlins. "What I say," responded Fanks, coolly. "Axton, Miss Varlins, this case is in my hands, and I am determined to find out who killed Sebastian Melstane, and for reasons of my own I wish to see those letters. Will you let me look at them?"