“James,—Your letter to hand. I cannot reply at present, as Stanley has gone to Bergen; but I will write you again on his return.
“F.”
Though short, and unimportant as regards contents, this letter was of the highest importance in other respects. Firstly, because it was evidently from Mrs. Stanley Burgoyne, and intended for the eye of James Mullen, and so in every way confirmed the genuineness of the letter I had found in Green’s cigar-case; and secondly, because it disclosed some information that I might otherwise have had much difficulty in discovering—the name under which Mullen’s correspondence was being addressed to him.
It was of the highest importance—if Mullen was to fall into the trap which I was preparing for him—that he should have no cause to suspect his correspondence was again being tampered with; so, as it was possible that Mrs. Burgoyne might refer to this epistle in a later letter, I carefully resealed the note and handed it to the postman, whom I saw delivering letters in the street where the shop whence I had obtained it was situated.
“What’s this?” he said when he had looked at it.
“You dropped it when making your last call,” I answered.
He looked surprised at first, and afterwards suspicious. “I don’t remember seeing that letter when I sorted my delivery,” he said; “and I ain’t in the habit of dropping letters in the street—been at it too long for that. How do I know this ain’t a put-up job?”
“Give it me back at once, you insolent fellow,” I replied, “and I’ll do what I ought to have done at first—take it to the head office and report you to the postmaster for negligence. I go out of my way to do you a courtesy, and perhaps save you from getting into trouble for carelessness in the execution of your duty, and I get insulted for my pains. Give it me back, or come with me to the head office and we’ll soon put this matter right.”
“I humbly ask your pardon, and hope there is no offence, sir, I am sure,” he answered, with a change of manner which showed that he did not relish the threat of being reported for negligence. “I’ll see the letter’s delivered all right, and I’m much obliged to you, sir, I am sure, and hope you won’t think no more of it.”
“I’m not sure that I oughtn’t to take the letter to the office now,” I said. “However, I don’t want to get a man into trouble for an accident, but keep a civil tongue in your head another time, young man, or you’ll not get off so cheaply as you have this.”