Itzia" as a signature,
and having made three clear copies, I drove round to the offices of
the three great daily newspapers of that date, and at each secured the
insertion of this advertisement for a week. A little comforted by that
achievement, I went to bed, and, being dog tired, got to sleep.

The days that followed were among the dreariest I can remember. I spent
them for the most part at home, sitting at the open window which looked
upon the street, and waiting for the advent of the postman.

I was there in the morning an hour before his arrival could reasonably
be expected, and I was there all day, and there still an hour after
his last round had been made. Every time he came in sight my heart beat
furiously; and as the short official note on the knocker came nearer and
nearer, I strove in vain to resist the temptation to run down-stairs and
await him at the front door. Every man on that beat got to know me, and
I grew to be utterly ashamed of myself at last, for day after day
went by, and there came no answer to my advertisement and no note from
anywhere of Violet's existence. At last the week for which I had prepaid
the advertisement expired. I had determined to renew my warning and
entreaty if no answer came, and I waited the last part of that day
with a throbbing heart. The minutes of the dull, rainy night--it was
mid-April by this time--crawled slowly on, and at last I heard the
belated knocker at the far end of the street, and hurried on my overcoat
and hat in case I should be disappointed once again. Then I slipped down
to the door, and waited in the portico. The postman knocked next door,
and I was ashamed to show myself; but only a second or two later he
appeared with a single letter in his hand.

"Captain Fyffe?" he asked, inquiringly, and I responding "Captain
Fyffe," he handed me the letter.

The superscription was in Violet's hand. I tore it open and read,
in embossed letters at the top of the first page, "Scarfell House,
Richmond." Then came this:

"My Dearest,--Is the strange advertisement addressed to
Violet and signed 'John of Itzia' yours? I almost think it
must be, and yet I am half afraid and half ashamed to say
so. But since I left town, nine days ago, I have written
to you every day, and have not received a line in answer. If
you will look in either the Times or the Advertiser, if the
advertisement should not have been put there by yourself,
yo