London, I was
myself up betimes to see the sinful James also off the premises. His
sorrow, no longer secret, was very manifest; it was a cold wet morning; it
required some strength of mind to cast the fellow adrift and leave him to
find his own way, with bag and baggage, to oblivion. But I did it.

One does not leave much margin of time on these occasions, and it was not
long afterwards that we followed in the dog-cart; nor had we got far on our
road before we espied the back of James ahead of us--one of the saddest
backs I have ever seen. He had still four miles to go to the station; his
bag was obviously not light; he looked as if he would not get four more
yards without collapsing; no doubt he had had an exhaustive night; finally,
even that stern disciplinarian, Merriman, took pity. So, "Jump up behind,
you old blackguard," I called to him as I drew up alongside, and up he
climbed, cling-to his seedy bag and protesting that this was very much more
than he deserved.

As to his honesty you, Sir, must judge. The police doubted it from the
start, and their experience led them to be sure that the reference was
forged, that there was no "Cottage" and no Elizabeth Brown. No doubt he had
managed to get our letter delivered to him and had forged an answer to
that. On all points they were wrong and James was correct. There was "The
Cottage" all right, very much a cottage; it had been vacated by the tenant,
not voluntarily (who ever said it had?) but by reason of arrears of six
weeks' rent, at 5_s._ 6_d._ per week. The tenant's name was truly Elizabeth
Brown, though she was more commonly known as Old Bess, and she was the one
person to know all about our James, being his wife. And we've no reason to
doubt that she has taken him back into her service and was very glad to do
it too.

In short, I cannot claim that James lied to us in any particular. So much
for his honesty. As far as dishonesty was involved in the matter of the
bag, I am not in a position to complain of that, seeing that it was by my
agency alone that that bag got to the station, and it was at my expense
that our local porter deposited, _inter alia_, my wife's much valued
Georgian tea service and spoons in the London train, just about the time
that the theft of them was being discovered at home. Under the guilty
circumstances I prefer to remain

Your anonymous

CORRESPONDENT.

* * * * *

TO MINKI-POO

(SHUTTING ONE EYE).