"It was delivered three hours ago," said the man apologetically, "and I quite forgot to bring it up. So many visitors, miss," he added, with a sickly smile. Sophy took the letter. The envelope was a thick creamy one, and the writing of the address elegant in the extreme. "Who delivered it?" she asked. "A fat man, miss, with a red face, and dressed in black." Alan's expression grew somewhat anxious. "Surely that describes the man we saw reciting?" "So it does." Sophy eyed the letter dubiously. "Had he a loud voice, Simmonds?" "As big as a bell, miss, and he spoke beautiful: but he wasn't gentry, for all that," finished Simmonds with conviction. "You can go," said Alan. Then he turned to Sophy, who was opening the envelope. "Let me read that letter first," he said. "Why, Alan? There is no need. It is only a begging letter. Come and read it with me." He gave way, and looked over her shoulder the elaborate writing. "Miss" (it began), "The undersigned, if handsomely remunerated, can give valuable information regarding the removal of the body of the late Richard Marlow from its dwelling in Heathton Churchyard. _Verbum dat sapienti!_ Forward £100 to the undersigned at Dixon's Rents, Lambeth, and the information will be forthcoming. If the minions of the law are invoked the undersigned with vanish, and his information lost. "Faithfully yours, Miss Sophia Marlow, "Cicero Gramp." As she comprehended the meaning of this extraordinary letter, Sophy became paler and paler. The intelligence that her father's body had been stolen was too much for her, and she fainted. Thorold called loudly to Miss Vicky. "Look after her," he said, stuffing the letter into his pocket. "I shall be back soon." "But what--what----" began Miss Vicky. She spoke to thin air. Alan was running at top speed along the parade in search of the fat man. But all search was vain. Cicero, the astute, had vanished. CHAPTER IV. ANOTHER SURPRISE Heathton was only an hour's run by rail from Bournemouth, so that it was easy enough to get back on the same evening. On his return from his futile search for Cicero, Alan determined to go at once to the Moat House. He found Sophy recovered from her faint, and on hearing of his decision, she insisted upon accompanying him. She had told Miss Vicky the contents of the mysterious letter, and that lady agreed that they should leave as soon as their boxes could be packed. "Don't talk to me, Alan!" cried Sophy, when her lover objected to this sudden move. "It would drive me mad to stay here doing nothing, with that on my mind." "But, my dear girl, it may not be true." "If it is not, why should that man have written? Did you see him?" "No. He has left the parade, and no one seems to know anything about him. It is quite likely that when he saw us returning to the hotel he cleared out. By this time I dare say he is on his way to London." "Did you see the police?" she asked anxiously.