“Oh, shame!” said the postman, producing a letter. “Never min’. ’Ere’s a napple.”
They laughed with him, gave him their letters in exchange and watched him tramp down the avenue under the rook-ridden elms.
“Hullo, it’s for me,” said Oliver. “Oh, I know. It’s from the Rhin.”
“The Rhin?” said Jean, peering. “How have they got our address?”
“ ’Member those wires we never paid for? And I was always going to send the porter a cheque? Well, when we got here I remembered, and, as we weren’t so tied up, I sent him five bob.”
He ripped the envelope open, to find another inside.
This had been sent from London some time in May.
“Ancient history,” said Pauncefote, and broke the seal.
COLD’S BANK LIMITED.
Pall Mall Branch.