“Yes,” I cried. “Why, I remember I passed you in my car!”
I tore open the letter, and found in it some scribbled words in pencil, which read—
“I am in deadly peril! If you are my friend come here at once, and save me!—Asta.”
Chapter Twenty Seven.
In the Balance.
“How did you get this?” I asked the youth. “Who are you?”
“I’m John May, sir,” was his answer. “I work in the gardens at Lydford, an’ last night, soon after eleven, as I was a-comin’ home from Rockingham, I met Miss Asta out in the drive. She was like a mad thing. She ’ad the letter and wanted it delivered at once. So I went to the stables and, sayin’ nothink, came away.”
“Then she had written this note, and gone out in the hope of finding some one to deliver it?” I exclaimed, glancing at his horse, and noticing that it was absolutely done up after an all-night ride.