"Very well. Here it is, then."
Upon this, the colonel read as follows:—
"Craven Street, London.
"My Dear Colonel,—No news of Todd. We are sparing neither pains nor expense in tracking him; and it is an absolute impossibility that he should escape us long. Accident, I am convinced, much more than any design or luck upon his part, has had the effect as yet of keeping him out of our hands. But I do not think that it would be very difficult to count the time, in hours, between this and the period when he must be dead or a prisoner.
"I hope that all our dear friends with you are quite well, and that they will banish from their minds all fear of the revenge of Todd. Nothing is more improbable than that he should dream of finding his way to the obscure little village where you are. I hope all of you are benefiting much by the health-giving breezes of the ocean.
"With kind regard to all, I am, my dear colonel,
"Yours very truly,
"Richard Blunt."
"Still at large!" said Mark Ingestrie, upon the conclusion of the letter. "So the rascal is still at large?"
"Yes," said the colonel; "but you hear what the magistrate says, that he will soon have him."