Mudd glanced at the envelope and tore it open.
"10, Duke Street,
"Leicester Square"Mr. Modd,
"Come at once.
"Celestine Rossignol."
That was all, written in an angular, old-fashioned hand and in purple ink.
"Where's my hat?" cried Mudd, running about like a decapitated fowl. "Where's my hat? Oh ay, it's upstairs!" He vanished, and in a minute reappeared with his hat; then, with Bobby, and followed by the dirty little girl trotting behind them, off they started.
They tried to question the little girl on the way, but she knew nothing definite.
The gentleman had been brought 'ome—didn't know what was wrong with him; the lady had given her the letter to take; that was all she knew.
"He's alive, anyway," said Bobby.
"The Lord knows!" said Mudd.
The little girl let them in with a key and, Mudd leading the way, up the stairs they went.