happened: as he entered his lodgings and closed
the front door, the letter-box behind it fell open and he saw a sealed
envelope lying inside. He picked it out and read the address.

"Mrs. Wilcox!" he called down the passage. "When did this come?"

Mrs. Wilcox, appearing at the kitchen door and wiping her hands, could
not tell. The midday post or else the three o'clock. There were no
others. Come to think of it, she had heard a postman's knock when she
was dishing up the dinner, but had supposed it to be next door.
It sounded like next door.

Gilbart took the letter upstairs with him. The address was in Casey's
handwriting. "Queer fellow, Casey." He broke the seal in the little
bay window. "Just like him, though, to shake hands yesterday without a
spark of feeling, and then send his good-byes to reach me after he was
well on his way." He drew out the inclosure, unfolded it, and saw that
the paper bore the printed address of the Sailors' Home where Casey
dossed when ashore, and where writing-paper was supplied gratis.
"Couldn't have come ashore after I left him: he'd paid his bill at the
Rest and his bag was aboard. Must have had this in his pocket all the
time; might just as well have handed it to me--with instructions not to
open it--and saved the stamp. What a secretive old chap it is!"

He held the letter close to his eyes in the waning daylight.

"DEAR JOHN,--By the time this reaches you we shall have started;
and by then, or a little later, I shall have gone and the
Berenice with me. If you ask where, I don't know; but it is where
we shall never meet.

"You serve your country in your own way. I am going to serve mine.
Perhaps I shall also be serving yours; for it is only by striking
terribly and without warning that the brave men in this world can
get even with the cowards who make its laws.

"One thing I envy you--you'll be alive to see the rage of the sheep.
I am playing this hand alone and without help. So when your silly
newspapers begin to cry out about secret societies, _you will
know_. I never belonged to one in my life.

"I think I am sorriest about the way you'll think of me. But that
makes no real difference, because I know it to be foolish. I have
the stuff on board and the little machine. I cannot fix the time
to an hour up or down; but you may take it for sure that _some time
between 10 p.m. and midnight the_ Be