"Guessing, wooden nutmegs, and a little taste of Brandywine thrown in for flavor."
"Very unkind of you to throw our defeats in our teeth—and especially into mine; for you know that I am half Irish, and we Irish helped you."
Saunders laughed as they approached the desk together.
"Letter for you, Mr. Griffin," said the clerk, throwing a square envelope on the desk.
Saunders just glanced at it before Mark himself saw that the letter was without a stamp; it had come by messenger. The detective turned his back to hide a smile, then walked to the reading table and picked up a paper.
Mark opened his letter. It was from the lady of the tree—only a few lines—an invitation to tea that afternoon at the house behind the great wall. Twice he read it over.
"Dear Mr. Griffin: Monsignore is coming to tea at four o'clock to-day. Won't you come with him? He likes you—that I know—and he always looks lonesome when he comes alone, with only two women to talk to.
Sincerely,
Ruth Atheson."
That was all. The letter went into Mark's pocket as he saw Saunders looking over the top of his paper.
"Getting acquainted in Sihasset pretty quickly, eh?" ventured the detective.
"Yes," replied Mark, "bad pays get acquainted fast." The reply was obviously inadequate, but Mark wanted the detective to know. Saunders took the bait, hook and all.