"Thank you, sir," answered John, "I'll get them myself, if you tell me where they are?"
He found the letters on the Colonel's desk, and excused himself for reading them. The first letter began: "Dear Bernard," and the first sentence ran: "You bad, bad boy." John knew in a moment that it was from Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, and skimmed the four closely written pages casually.
"Have you seen the Great One yet? ... The Ogre is always in the House of Commons now ... I am utterly alone ... I wonder if any fine, handsome young man is thinking of sending me a hundred Russian cigarettes, the same as the last.... Next time you come, you must not be nearly so bold....—Yours, ALICE."
"A very satisfactory letter," thought John, "if I had happened to care two straws about her." A vision of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's brilliant beauty came before his eyes. It seemed strange to think that this woman, in the heart of London society, was a traitor, using her gifts of fortune and beauty for the nefarious purpose of ruining her own country, but such was indeed the case. What had been the original cause of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's treachery, John did not know; only afterwards was the full truth made plain to him.
He opened the second letter, which was in a handwriting unknown to him. The note was from Captain Cherriton, to whom he had given this address when he left London.
"DEAR TREVES," ran the letter—"Will you please call at Rollo Meads one day next week, Tuesday for preference, at five in the afternoon? I shall be there, and you will meet a new friend, Doctor Voules, who will supply you with what you want." (He was referring to the tabloids Manwitz had been in the habit of supplying to Treves.) "* Our old friend,*" went on the letter, "who formerly supplied you, you will regret to hear, was taken ill, and has gone away to the coast for a time.
"Yours very truly,
"JOHN CHERRITON."
John folded this letter carefully and placed it within his pocket-book. A specimen of Cherriton's handwriting, he inwardly decided, would be useful to Dacent Smith. Half an hour later John took his departure, and the old Colonel accompanied him to the door of the house.
"Good-bye, my boy," said the old man, gripping his hand at parting, "come again soon"; then he lowered his voice so that Gates, who was waiting at John's hired car, could not hear, "Bernard, boy," said the Colonel wistfully, "when you are tempted to go a little wrong, just keep in mind that I am believing in you."