He stumbled along until he reached the station. He had another stiff glass of spirits at the refreshment bar, and found he had only a shilling left.
"Good thing I took a return ticket," he muttered, "and as for to-morrow I can go to the bank in a cab, thank goodness, and go home in a balloon, if I choose. And after that, I'll clear out of town for a bit and pull myself together—and pull myself together."
He laughed stupidly as he found himself repeating his words, and then huddled up in a corner of the carriage. How he got back to his chambers in Jermyn Street he scarcely knew, but he had been there some time before his attention was attracted by a letter which was lying on his table. It was written in a hand that was not familiar to him. It bore date that morning, and the paper was stamped with a monogram and the address, 5, The Vale, South Kensington.
"Dear Mr. Melville Ashley," it ran, "there are many reasons—into none of which do I deem it expedient to enter now—why I have hitherto refrained from inviting you to my house. For the moment I will confine myself to making the announcement, for which you may be wholly unprepared, that I married Sir Geoffrey Holt many years ago, and am, consequently, your aunt by marriage. I shall be obliged if you will call upon me to-morrow at half-past four o'clock, and it is my desire that until I have seen you, you shall not acquaint any third person with the contents of this communication.—I am, yours faithfully, LAVINIA HOLT."
At last the full significance of the note was borne in upon him.
"Married Sir Geoffrey many years ago!" Melville said slowly. "Strange! that is very strange!"
He entered the address in his pocket book, and then carefully locked away the letter, together with that from Ralph, in a despatch box.
"In spite of all you said, Sir Geoffrey, I fancy this letter, too, may mean money in my pocket!" and the smile upon his face was very evil.