"Is the postmistress here intelligent?"
"No, the reverse. A snuffy old idiot."
"Oh!" said Fanks, smiling to himself; "then I wouldn't be surprised if she had delivered that packet to the wrong person."
"But there's no one else about here called Judith."
Mr. Fanks did not reply, but leaving his chair, went to the sideboard and brought back pen, ink, and paper, which he placed on the table near Roger.
"You're a very bad writer!" he said, calmly arranging the paper.
"No worse than the usual run of literary men."
"I'm sorry for the printers, if that is the case. The letter you sent me here, saying you were coming, is most illegible."
"Well, that letter has nothing to do with the case," said Roger, impatiently.
"I think it has a good deal to do with it, seeing it told me you were coming down here," replied Fanks, coolly. "However, this is not to the point. Take up that pen." Roger did so, looking considerably bewildered at the manner in which his friend was behaving.