Ray looked after him a few minutes, almost tempted to follow, and disclose what he knew. But he again resisted the impulse, and with a sore heart went sadly down the street. Stopping at the post office for Mr. Woodhull's mail, Ray was surprised that a letter for himself was handed out with the rest. He seldom got a letter, and this bore the postmark of a large city, a hundred miles away. Who there could have written to him? There was nothing on the envelope to give him the desired information, and so he hastily tore it open. There was an ordinary sheet of note paper inside without printed heading of any kind. On the sheet, however, these few lines were scrawled: W----, Oct. 30, 18--. MR. RAY BRANFORD, Dear Sir: Will you come to my office in this city, on Thursday, Nov. 4th, at 10 o'clock? There is an important matter upon which I wish to consult you. Yours truly, JAMES R. GREGORY, 27 Powell St., Room 3. _Attorney and Counsellor-at-Law._ Ray puzzled over this letter. He showed it to Mr. Woodhull. No explanation of its meaning occurred to either one, but on the morning of November 4th, Ray took the first train for the designated city. He arrived there about half-past nine o'clock, and used the next half hour in looking for the specified street and number. He reached the desired block just as the clock in the neighboring tower struck ten, and though no lawyer's sign was over the door, he went up the narrow stairway, and along to Room 3. At his knock a voice promptly responded, "Come in." Opening the door, he entered a large room, evidently only temporarily occupied, for its sole furniture was a small table and three chairs. At this table sat two men, one large and stout and smooth-faced; the other small, and almost a fop in his dress, with a pair of enormous glasses over his sharp, piercing eyes. "Good-morning, gentlemen," said Ray, advancing toward them. "Good-morning," they both responded, pleasantly, while the little man arose and placed the vacant chair for Ray to occupy. "Mr. Ray Branford, I presume?" he then said. "Yes, sir," replied Ray. "I am Mr. Gregory, who wrote to you, asking you to honor us with your presence," the little gentleman went on, "and this is my friend, Mr. John Wilson." Mr. Wilson arose and shook hands heartily with Ray, saying, "I am very glad to see you, sir." Completely mystified by the marked cordiality of both men, who were entire strangers to him, Ray took the offered chair, remarking: "I believe you had some matter you wished to talk over with me." "Certainly, certainly," replied Mr. Gregory. And then he manifested a lawyer's proclivity, by beginning such a series of questions as to well-nigh take away Ray's breath.