After lunch he walked along,
Princes Street and back to the castle. The sky was clear, the sun
shone on the old tall houses, and a nipping north-easter blew across
the Forth. In spite of its age and modern industry, the town looked
strangely clean and cold. No smoke could hang about it in the nipping
wind; its prevailing color was granite-gray. The Forth was a streak of
raw indigo, and the hills all round were steely blue. Edinburgh was
like no English town; it had an austere half-classical beauty that was
peculiar to itself; perhaps Quebec, though different, resembled it most
of all the cities he had seen.

Then he remembered Carmen's packet, and after asking a passer-by took a
tram-car that carried him through the southern quarter of the town into
a wide road, lined by well-built stone houses. Standing in small, neat
gardens, they ran back to the open country, with a bold ridge of moors
in the distance. Foster got down where he was directed and crossed the
road to one of the houses. They were all much alike and he thought
hinted at the character of their occupants. One would expect to find
the people who lived there prosperous citizens with sober, conventional
habits.

He went up a short, tiled path and rang the bell. A smart maid-servant
showed him into a small, morning-room, where everything was very neat,
and after a few moments a man came in. He was the kind of man Foster
had expected to find in such a house, well-dressed, with polite but
rather formal manners, and Foster briefly stated his business. He
thought the man looked at him sharply, but it was about four o'clock in
the afternoon and the light was not good.

"Mr. Graham does not live here now; he left a week or two ago," he
said. "Do you know him personally?"

"No," said Foster. "Miss Austin asked me to give him the packet."

"Then you know Mr. Austin."

"In a way," said Foster, smiling. "We speak when we meet on the
street, but don't get much further. In fact, Austin's a business rival
of mine."

The man seemed to ponder for a moment or two. Then he said, "I gather
that you want to deliver the packet, not to post it?"

"That's so. I don't know if it matters much, but I'd like to put it in
Graham's hands."

"Very well. He's gone to Newcastle, but I have his address somewhere.
If you will wait a minute or two, I'll look."

He took the packet, as if he meant to write the address on it, and
Foster sat down. The door of the roo