This letter, written with many tears from the heart that had so suffered, and was now softened by good fortune and bounding with joy, Staines entrusted to Falcon, together with the other diamonds, and with many warm shakings of the hand, started him on his way.
“But mind, Falcon,” said Christopher, “I shall expect an answer from Mrs. Falcon in twenty days at farthest. I do not feel so sure as you do that she wants to go to England; and, if not, I must write to Uncle Philip. Give me your solemn promise, old fellow, an answer in twenty days—if you have to send a Kafir on horseback.”
“I give you my honor,” said Falcon superbly.
“Send it to me at Bulteel's Farm.”
“All right. 'Dr. Christie, Bulteel's Farm.'”
“Well—no. Why should I conceal my real name any longer from such friends as you and your wife? Christie is short for Christopher—that IS my Christian name; but my surname is Staines. Write to 'Dr. Staines.'”
“Dr. Staines!”
“Yes. Did you ever hear of me?”
Falcon wore a strange look. “I almost think I have. Down at Gravesend, or somewhere.”
“That is curious. Yes, I married my Rosa there; poor thing! God bless her; God comfort her. She thinks me dead.”