“Yes. I have a little business to transact. Tell father I won’t be long, for, if I am, I shall have been unexpectedly detained.”
Presently our heroine, who to the ordinary passer-by looked a rather handsome young fellow, with short, dark hair, bright dark blue eyes, and a dark moustache, of a shape which suited his light form and clearly-cut features to perfection, was walking down the street in a westerly direction at a rapid pace.
Half an hour later this same young gentleman was to be seen talking to an elderly postman, in a neighbourhood which, for the sake of the aforementioned postman I had better not indicate too closely. Suffice it to say that his round embraced the residence of Mr. David Stavanger, who, with his family, was now back in London.
“Have you anything yet for me?” was the first inquiry addressed to the postman, an inquiry, moreover, which pointed to a little previous collusion between the two innocent-looking individuals.
“I believe I have, at last, sir,” was the answer, “I had an extra lot of letters this morning, and very near forgot all about you. In fact, I was just putting three letters in the letter-box of Number Thirty-nine when I caught sight of a foreign stamp, and stuck to the letter it was on, just in time. Is this anything in your line, sir?”
Saying this, the postman handed a letter to “Mr. Bootle,” which the latter seized with avidity, and examined eagerly. The scrutiny appeared to more than satisfy him. He was positively jubilant, for the missive bore a Spanish postmark, and was in the handwriting which had become quite familiar to the pseudo governess of Fanny Stavanger.
“I believe this is the very thing I want. Wait a moment until I open it, so that I may know whether I need your services any more for the present or not. There! you see there is no cheque or valuable paper of any description in this envelope. It is, as I told you, a letter only that I wished to intercept, and there will be no inquiry about it, I assure you, as the writer is a fugitive from justice, who is only too anxious to keep dark. Yes, this tells me all I want to know. This very night I set off to catch my man, and here is the ten-pound note I promised you.”
“If you have gold about you it would suit me better, sir. Ten pounds is a lot for a poor chap like me to have, and folks might get suspicious if I showed a note for that amount.”
“Perhaps you don’t feel sure that the note is genuine. I have no gold with me. But if you object to the bank note, I will give you a cheque on the National and Provincial Bank.”
“Oh, it’s all right, sir. I’ll take your word for it. All the same, if you don’t mind, I’ll follow you till we get to the bank. Then you can go inside with me, and change it.”