For a minute she wondered if there had been some extraordinary and unexplainable mistake, but she knew his handwriting. Nevertheless, with a great effort to steady herself, she looked into the face of the messenger.
"If you will come to the house," she said, "I shall be pleased to give you something for being so kind as to bring this to me."
"Thank you, miss."
"Are you one of the servants at St. Neot's Home?"
"No, miss. I work for the dairy that supplies them."
Again Elaine glanced at the crumpled letter in her fingers. There was no possibility of forgery—and yet how came it that Dacent Smith should wish to detain her husband? She recalled that the brilliant Chief of the secret service had had nothing but praise for Bernard.
Again she looked quickly into the young man's face.
"Have you seen Mr. Treves lately?"
"I saw him this morning, miss."
It seemed ridiculous to put the question, to dally still with the idea of forgery. Nevertheless, she put it.