"Ha!" said Mr. Amory.
"—because," Mrs. Avory continued, "I don't know. We have never discovered. The giver wished to be anonymous."
Mr. Amory looked surprised, and became a shade less fierce.
"You took no steps to find out?" he asked.
"How could I? There was no clue to go upon."
"I see, I see," said Mr. Amory. "There has been a huge mistake. Perhaps you will allow me to read you a letter which we received a day or so ago:
"'DEAR CHILDREN,
"'I have just come back, much sooner than I expected; but, finding no letter from you, I have made some inquiries as to what you have done with the caravan, and, to my amazement, cannot discover that it has ever reached you at all; and since, if it has not, this letter must be all Greek to you, I may now say that on the 23rd of June a caravan fully furnished for a journey should have arrived at your house with a letter saying it was from your friend X., as it amused me to call myself. I have been to the man whom I employed to take it to you, but he is in hospital. His wife, however, is convinced that he did take it to Chiswick all right. Please ask your father to try to discover to what house it was sent. Tomorrow evening I shall come to see you all.
"'Your affectionate
UNCLE EUSTACE.
"There," said Mr. Amory, "you see. Not, however, that I should have let my sons go away in it—at any rate, without me"—the two little boys winced—"but different people have different ideas. Well," he continued, "I have been investigating, and of course I soon discovered that the caravan had come here, and that your children had gone off in it. I will admit that we have only just come to Chiswick, and that you were better known here; but the fact remains that the letter was addressed, not to the name of Avory, but Amory."