He had scrawled a line to Doris therefore, reporting himself, per agreement, and inviting himself to tea, to discuss an important personal matter, the next afternoon at five.
To this he had received, late the same day, posted from Folkestone, the following reply:
"DEAR CORD:
"Owing to a sudden change of plans, we start for the Continent to-night, and, 'to-morrow at five,' I shall be having my tea with Aunty in Paris—and thinking of you!
"We remain there only for a few days, then on to the Riviera, and eventually cross into Spain.
"I had something to ask you last night, which escaped me in the pain of bidding you farewell—something you may do for me, which will add to the great debt of gratitude I already owe you—and crown it all! Abandon this investigation! By our dear friendship of many years, I ask it,—by the love which you profess for me. It will involve you in frightful consequences of which I do not dare to speak. Your bare connection with it fills me with anguish—I cannot sleep! ... Thank you for the report of your health. I am nervous and unstrung these days, and filled with imaginary terrors.
"In your note, you speak of 'an important personal matter'—may I interpret the phrase, candidly, and give you my answer? I esteem you too dear to entangle you in my own melancholy career. This decision is quite unalterable, and, moreover, I am not free.
"There is nothing left to add. God bless you.
"DORIS."
This missive Van Ingen did not show to Smith. With a white bandage about his head, and looking, the detective declared, "pale and interesting," he sat in an easy-chair before the open fire, and gloomily reviewed the situation.