He stalked away toward the hut, whilst I opened what turned out to be a love-letter—evidently intended for some other member of our diffusive clan, for I could make neither head nor tail of it; nothing, indeed, but heart, and such heart as it has never been my luck to capture. Meanwhile, Moriarty had cut the string of the newspaper, and was running his eye over its columns.
"My mozzle is out, Collins." said he, with an effort. "I'll never clear myself—never in the creation of cats. It's all up!"
"Yes; you suffer by comparison with the sanctimonious old hypocrites now,"
I replied, in a fatherly tone, as I took the half-sovereign
from the window-sill. "Feel something like an overproof idiot—don't you?
We'll talk about that presently. But see what I've got here."
My second letter ran:—
K3769
No. 256473
Central Office of Unconsidered Trifles,
Sydney, February 1, 1884.
Mr. T. Collins.
Sir,—I am directed to inform you that the Deputy-Commissioner purposes visiting Nyngan on the I7th prox. You are required to attend the Office of the Department in that township at 11 a.m. on the day above mentioned, to furnish any information which he may require.
I am, Sir
Ynnnnnnnnnnly
MMMnnynnlnny