“Who from?” Donald, reviewing quickly the persons with whom Seguis might have come in contact, could think of no one who would send him a message.
Seguis parried.
“Perhaps, you remember writing a letter that night in the cabin?
“Yes.”
“Well, it was delivered.”
There was an instant's silence, as the significance of this flashed on Donald.
“H-m, I see,” he remarked quietly, “and you bring the answer?”
“Yes, here it is.” Seguis handed over the letter, upon the back of which Jean had written.
Donald, with considerable difficulty, read the almost illegible lines, and, when he came to the signature, laughed aloud.
“This is absurd,” he said calmly, putting the letter in his pocket. “That is not Miss Fitzpatrick's handwriting.”