“You will see that I am writing from Liverpool. I have taken a second-class passage to Canada and we sail to-night. Willie, who returned to Barony last week, has lent me all the money I shall need until I find work. Do not be apprehensive. It is not with the vague uncertainty of an indifferent typist or a downtrodden governess that I go, but as an efficient domestic servant—a capable cook, housemaid or ‘general,’ as need be. It sounds rather incredible at first, does it not, but such things happen, and I shall get on very well.
“Good-bye, Mr Carrados; I shall remember you very often and very gratefully.
“Madeline Whitmarsh.
“P.S.—Yes, there is friendship at first sight.”
THE COMEDY AT FOUNTAIN COTTAGE
Carrados had rung up Mr Carlyle soon after the inquiry agent had reached his office in Bampton Street on a certain morning in April. Mr Carlyle’s face at once assumed its most amiable expression as he recognized his friend’s voice.
“Yes, Max,” he replied, in answer to the call, “I am here and at the top of form, thanks. Glad to know that you are back from Trescoe. Is there—anything?”
“I have a couple of men coming in this evening whom you might like to meet,” explained Carrados. “Manoel the Zambesia explorer is one and the other an East-End slum doctor who has seen a few things. Do you care to come round to dinner?”
“Delighted,” warbled Mr Carlyle, without a moment’s consideration. “Charmed. Your usual hour, Max?” Then the smiling complacence of his face suddenly changed and the wire conveyed an exclamation of annoyance. “I am really very sorry, Max, but I have just remembered that I have an engagement. I fear that I must deny myself after all.”