It has already been mentioned that, in addition to this palisade, numerous bushes of stunted growth formed a substantial barrier between the grounds of the adjoining estates. It was on a prickly evergreen that the scrap of paper, to which the girl's attention had been drawn by its fluttering in the soft breeze, was impaled.
"Surely not another message from our neighbour?" queried Laurence, with a smile.
"Not exactly," replied Lena, "but something belonging to Mr. Meadows, under his military alias, for all that."
"Indeed!" Laurence bent over the scrap of paper, which the girl now held out for him.
It was the left-hand portion of a torn envelope. In fact it was entire, save that the part bearing the stamp and the last few letters of each line of the address were missing. Such of it as there was bore the following address, written in a firm lady-like handwriting—undoubtedly the work of an educated woman—
"Major Farnell-Jo....
"Durley Den....
"Northd....
"Yorksh....
"England."
"So the worthy Major has lady correspondents who address him by his pseudonym and write from abroad," remarked Lena.
"It's undoubtedly in a lady's handwriting," replied Laurence, "but how do you know it comes from abroad? The envelope is a thick one."
"That's simple enough. If the person who addressed that envelope had done so from England she would have been hardly likely to write 'England' at the foot of the address. Of course, in using the word 'abroad,' I include in this case Scotland and Ireland."
"I see. But surely that handwriting is familiar to me. Don't you know it? No? Well, I'm certain that I do. The peculiar formation of the 'J's' and 'Y's,' and the flourishing stroke to the 'N' of Northden, I know perfectly. Where have I seen that writing before?"