Virginia turned the letter over—and was struck dumb with astonishment. The signature, written in a delicate slanting hand, was Virginia Revel. Checking the exclamation of astonishment that rose to her lips, she turned again to the beginning of the letter and deliberately read the whole thing through. Then she stood a minute lost in thought. The nature of the letter made it clear enough what was in prospect.
“Well, madame?” said the man. “That is your name, is it not?”
“Oh, yes,” said Virginia. “It’s my name.” “But not my handwriting,” she might have added.
Instead she turned a dazzling smile upon her visitor.
“Supposing,” she said sweetly, “we sit down and talk it over?”
He was puzzled. Not so had he expected her to behave. His instinct told him that she was not afraid of him.
“First of all, I should like to know how you found me out?”
“That was easy.”
He took from his pocket a page torn from an illustrated paper, and handed it to her. Anthony Cade would have recognized it.
She gave it back to him with a thoughtful little frown.