"To be sure," said Mrs. Bunce approvingly.
"Then it struck me," continued Old Death, "that if I could only get sight of the contents of that letter which she had posted to Tom Rain, it might open some farther clue to the nature of their connexion. And I did get the letter——"
"Oh! you clever fellow!" interrupted Betsy, shaking her head with mock gravity. "But what did the letter say?"
"Why, it was a regular sermon," answered Old Death. "It talked about how much she loved him—all she had done and suffered on his account—and a lot of gammon of that kind. She told him how her father had made her take an oath not to see him any more, and how unhappy she was. Then she begged of him to repent and leave a course of life that is sure to end at Tuck-up Fair."
"Did she use them words?" demanded Mrs. Bunce.
"No, you fool!" cried Old Death. "She writes quite like a lady, and in a beautiful hand too! But, after having said all I have told you, she let him know that she shuddered at the idea of being connected with a highwayman: and she begged his pardon for calling him so."
"A pleasant letter for Tom to receive!" observed Mrs. Bunce.
"Very. And she drops a hint," continued Old Death, "that if he will give up his business, there is a chance of her father forgiving Tom for what is past, and of their being re-united—that's the very word."
"Do you think they are married, then?" asked the woman.
"I should say not," replied Bones; "because she talks of being connected with a highwayman—and that's not a word a wife uses to her husband. Besides, the whole letter didn't look like one written by a wife—but rather a mistress. And then it ends by saying that she hopes to find a letter from him at the post-office in Southampton Row."