"No need there should be plenty of waste. No; if we go abroad, we must either shut up the house or let it."
"To the Quiet Gentleman?" said Sophy, with a laugh.
Alan looked up suddenly.
"No, not to him. He is a mysterious person," said Miss Vicky. "I do not like such people, though I dare say it is only village gossip which credits him with a strange story."
"Just so," put in Alan. "Don't trouble about him."
Miss Vicky was still discussing the possibility of a trip abroad, when the waiter entered with a note for Sophy.
"It was delivered three hours ago," said the man apologetically, "and I quite forgot to bring it up. So many visitors, miss," he added, with a sickly smile.
Sophy took the letter. The envelope was a thick creamy one, and the writing of the address elegant in the extreme.
"Who delivered it?" she asked.
"A fat man, miss, with a red face, and dressed in black."