“Yes; they all are. The only difference between his letters and Brotherson’s is this: Brotherson’s retain the date and address; the second O. B.‘s do not.”
“How not? Torn off, do you mean?”
“Yes, or rather, neatly cut away; and as none of the envelopes were kept, the only means by which we can locate the writer is through this girl Doris.”
“If I remember rightly Miss Challoner’s letter to this child was free from all mystery.”
“Quite so. It is as open as the day. That is why it has been mentioned as showing the freedom of Miss Challoner’s mind five minutes before that fatal thrust.”
Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and re-read these lines:
“Dear Little Doris:
“It is a snowy night, but it is all bright inside and I feel no
chill in mind or body. I hope it is so in the little cottage in
Derby; that my little friend is as happy with harsh winds blowing
from the mountains as she was on the summer day she came to see
me at this hotel. I like to think of her as cheerful and beaming,
rejoicing in tasks which make her so womanly and sweet. She is
often, often in my mind.
“Affectionately your friend,
“EDITH A. CHALLONER.”
“That to a child of sixteen!”
“Just so.”
“D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris.”