Towards six o’clock the door-bell rang. All three started violently. The same notion occurred to all three at once.
“It—it is from her. It is her answer,” gasped Arthur, and began to breathe quickly.
Hetzel went to the door. After what seemed an eternity to those he had left behind, he returned.
“No,” he said, replying to their glances; “not yet. It is only your office-boy, Arthur. He has brought you your day’s mail.”
Arthur apathetically commenced to look over the envelopes. At last he came to one which he appeared on the point of opening. But then abruptly he seemed to change his mind, and tossed it to Hetzel.
“Read that, will you, and tell me what he says,” was his request.
Hetzel read the following:—
“Office of
“B. Peixada & Co.,
“No.—Reade Street,