She sat down beside him. "It's Peter," she said. "He was here yesterday—yesterday afternoon. I rang you up directly he had gone."
"Well?" inquired Tony.
Molly took a deep breath. "He had come to say good-bye."
Tony sat up. "What?" he demanded.
Molly nodded her head. "He didn't admit it in so many words, but that's what it came to."
There was a short pause.
"He must have more nerve than I gave him credit for," said Tony slowly.
"Oh, I don't mean good-bye altogether," said Molly with a little laugh. "That isn't Peter's idea at all." She jumped up from the sofa, and crossing to the writing-table in the corner opened the drawer and took out something from inside. "Look at this," she said.
"This," was a half sheet of stiff note-paper stamped in gold with the Royal Livadian arms, and bearing two or three straggling lines of writing, at the bottom of which sprawled a large irregular signature.