II
It was on the morning of the second day after the mailing of this letter that Begbie found a dainty-hued missive lying beside his plate at the breakfast-table. It was postmarked Sea Cliff, and addressed in the familiar handwriting of his hostess. Feverishly he tore it open, and found the following:
“Sea Cliff, August ——, 19—.
“My Dear Mr. Begbie:
“What careless creatures you men are! I have found ten such articles as you describe in my house during the past ten days, and out of so vast and varied a number I cannot quite decide which one is yours. Some of them are badly cracked; some of them are battered hopelessly—only one of them is in what I should call an A1, first class, condition. I am hoping it is yours, but I do not know. In any event, on receipt of this won’t you come down here at once and we can run over them together. I will meet you with the motor on the arrival of the 12:15 at Wavecrest Station.
“Meanwhile, my dear Mr. Begbie, knowing how essential a part of the human mechanism a heart truly is—I send you mine to take the place of the other. You may keep it until your own is returned to you.
“Always sincerely,
“Mary Shelton.”
“P.S.—Telegraph me if you will be on the 12:15.”