ty, and some copies of verses not
likely to suit any company that was not of an extremely free-and-easy
description. On the leaves of the pocketbook, people's addresses
scrawled in pencil, and bets jotted down in red ink. On one leaf, by
itself, this queer inscription:

"MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS."

I understood everything but those words and figures, so of course I
copied them out into my own book.

Then I waited in the pantry till Boots had brushed the clothes, and had
taken them upstairs. His report when he came down was, that Mr. D------
had asked if it was a fine morning. Being told that it was, he had
ordered breakfast at nine, and a saddle-horse to be at the door at ten,
to take him to Grimwith Abbey--one of the sights in our neighborhood
which I had told him of the evening before.

"I'll be here, coming in by the back way, at half-past ten," says I to
the head chambermaid.

"What for?" says she.

"To take the responsibility of making Mr. Davager's bed off your hands
for this morning only," says I.

"Any more orders?" says she.

"One more," says I. "I want to hire Sam for the morning. Put it down in
the order-book that he's to be brought round to my office at ten."

In case you should think Sam was a man, I'd better perhaps tell you he
was a pony. I'd made up my mind that it would be beneficial to Tom's
health, after the tarts, if he took a constitutional airing on a nice
hard saddle in the direction of Grimwith Abbey.

"Anything else?" says the head chambermaid.

"Only one more favor," says I. "Would my boy Tom be very much in the
way if he came, from now till ten, to help with the boots and shoes,
and stood at his work close by this window which looks out on the
staircase?"

"Not a bit," says the head chambermaid.

"Thank you," says I; and stepped back to my office directly.

When I had sent Tom off to help with the boots and shoes, I reviewed the
whole case exactly as it stood at that time.

There were three things Mr. Davager might do with the letter. He might
give it to his friend again before ten--in which case Tom would most
likely see the said friend on the stairs. He might take it to his
friend, or to some other friend, after ten--in which case Tom was ready
to follow him on Sam the pony. And, lastly, he might leave it hidden
somewhere in his room at the inn--in which case I was all ready for
him with a search-warrant of my own granting, under favor always of my
friend the head chamberma