So when Leicester awoke he said:
"Been asleep, sir? Quite right. To my knowledge you haven't slept a wink for three nights."
"Well," said Leicester, "have you seen him?"
"Yes, I have," said Stumpy, evading Leicester's glance, "and a very handsome man he is. Lord! he looks as innocent as a lamb and as sweet as a sucking-pig! Quite the swell, sir; all the flunkeys made as much fuss as if it was the Emperor of Rooshia coming out to his carriage."
"Ay," said Leicester, "the wicked flourish nowadays, Stumpy; it is bad policy to be honest. Even your friends cannot forgive you that; see how all mine have forgotten me! If I had done anything bad enough they would have remembered me, but I was passing honest and so—but no matter. I have been thinking over your advice, and I am determined to adopt it. Look on that table; there is a letter addressed to a solicitor whom I used to know. He was an honest man, and we shall want an honest man to help us. To-morrow you shall take that to his office, and then we'll start off to Penruddie. If we win and succeed it will not be for the last time, but if we fail I shall set sail for the tropics and leave England forever more to the rogues who rule it."
The next morning the eminent and respectable Mr. Thaxton received a short—a very short—and very mysterious letter.
"Dear Sir: If you have any desire to learn more of the mystery of Penruddie you may satisfy your curiosity to some extent by meeting the writer of this letter at the ruined chapel in Mildmay Park. Should you decide to come, make your way there to-morrow night unseen and conceal yourself behind the middle pillar near the turret, where you may see and hear much that will astonish and enlighten you."
The letter was unsigned and the handwriting was a strange one to Mr. Thaxton.