eived a testimonial to my character" He spoke ironically now--"I'll
guarantee to discover the fact in the course of ten minutes'
conversation with him!"

"You may be right, Anstice." Sir Richard did not speak with much
conviction. "But for all our sakes I wish we could make certain of the
facts either way. You see, should this lie be circulated through the
district by means of letters or postcards it is inevitable that the old
scandal should be raked up. And in that case Mrs. Carstairs _will_
suffer."

A thought struck Anstice suddenly and he gave it utterance forthwith.

"Sir Richard, I suppose you don't remember whether the handwriting in
any of those other letters resembled this in any way? It is not likely,
so long afterwards, but still----"

Sir Richard uttered an impatient exclamation.

"By Gad, what an old fool I am! I've got one of the original letters
locked away in that desk now--one of the half-dozen or so which reached
me when the scandal was at its height. I don't know why I kept it--God
knows I hated the sight of it--but somehow I could never bring myself to
destroy the thing, hoping against hope that it might some day afford a
clue to the identity of the writer."

He busied himself with a bunch of keys for a moment, and finally
selected one, with which he unlocked a small drawer at the back of his
desk. At first his eagerness prevented him finding what he sought, but
presently he brought to light another and rather worn sheet of paper,
which he handed to Anstice triumphantly.

"Yes, read it, read it!" He had marked Anstice's hesitation. "The
affair's been public property too long for any secrecy now. And that,
after all, was a fairly innocuous screed."

Thus encouraged, Anstice ran his eye over the sheet of paper, and there
read a veiled, but none the less malignant, attack on the character of
Mrs. Ogden, the wife of the man who had held the living of Littlefield
at the time the letter was written. In his anxiety to compare the
handwriting of the two epistles Anstice barely stopped to take in the
meaning of what he read; and when, in answer to his request, Sir Richard
handed him the second letter he carried them both eagerly to the window
and examined them carefully in the stronger light.

"Well?" Sir Richard's tone was full of sympathetic interest.

"One moment--I've got a pocket magnifying glass somewhere." He put the
letters down and plunged his hand into various pockets in eager search.
"A