"It had a foreign postmark," said the man; "so I started to meet you the moment it came in, according to orders."
"Right, boy, you are very right," cried North, tearing at the envelope as a hawk rends its prey; "never let a scrap of writing from abroad rest a moment out of my hands."
The man read the letter—only a few lines—and his hands shook till the paper rattled again.
"Boy—boy, what day of the month is this?" he questioned, trying to fold the letter, which he crushed instead.
"The tenth, sir."
North went into a mental calculation, then the cloud on his face broke away and he almost shouted:
"It is in time—it is in time! Any other letters?"
"One for the Cove. Shall I slip it into the old man's parcel or would you rather——"
"Give it to me," said North, cutting the servant short, and snatching at the letter, which was in Mr. Mellen's handwriting and bore the California postmark.
He was too eager for caution, and broke the seal recklessly.