"Too late, I'm afraid," said Octavius, advancing to the counter. "Here, old lady. Was there a letter here on the 15th, directed to Miss Judith?"
"Judas!" replied Mrs. Wevelspoke for the second time. "Drat it, what's come to the man, sir, as you're all talkin' of him? He's at Wosk's if you want him."
"Did you send any letters to him this month?" asked Fanks, loudly.
"Letters! all his letters go to the shop," retorted Mrs. Wevelspoke, obstinately.
"Were there any this month—November?"
"Remember!" cried the postmistress, twitching her bonnet, "of course I remember—I can remember things afore you were born, young man. I sends all letters to Mr. Judas at the shop. Two this month, and there's another waitin' 'im."
"Let me see it!" said Fanks, quickly glancing at Roger, "it may reveal something, Miss Varlins."
"Steal," remarked Mrs. Wevelspoke, sharply. "No, you don't steal here, sir! I'm an honest woman, I am."
"And a very stupid one," said Fanks, ruefully, in despair at getting any information out of this old dame.
"I have seen the letter she talks about, Mr. Rixton," said Miss Varlins, quickly, "and it is not the one we want."