ched out his hand for the
letter. It was dated from on board the ship "Cyclops," off Havana, ten
years ago, and, by the unsteady character of the handwriting, which
rendered some words almost illegible, had evidently been written in a
high sea. Mr Armstrong could scarcely help smiling at the banker's
naive suggestion as to the use of the document as evidence of
handwriting.

The note was as follows:--

"Dear Mr Morris,--I write to you in strictest confidence. My father
probably has given me up for dead. I hope so. On no account must he
know that I have written to you. My object is to enclose a twenty-
five dollar note which I owe him. Once, before we quarrelled, he lent
me five pounds. I want to pay it back without any one knowing of it,
because I'm determined not to owe anything to anybody, especially to
one who has told me I'm not honest. Please put it into his bank
account. He probably will never notice it; anyhow, please, whatever
you do, don't tell him or any one alive where it came from, or that
you ever heard a word from me or of me. I trust you as a gentleman.

"Yours truly,--

"Roger Ingleton."

"Well, sir," said the banker, who had watched the reading curiously,
"does it not seem an important letter?"

"I think so. It appears to be genuine, too, on the face of it. If you
will allow me I should like my ward to see it. It will interest him."

The tutor was not wrong. With this strange missive in his hand all
Roger's yearnings towards his lost brother returned in full force. The
object of his search seemed suddenly to stand within measurable reach.
Ten years appeared nothing beside the twenty which only a few months
back had divided them. If he could but postpone his majority another
year! Then came the miserable doubt about Ratman. If, after all, his
unlikely, discredited story should prove to have a grain of truth at the
bottom of it! But he dismissed the doubt for the hope.

"Armstrong, I must go to town to find out about the `Cyclops.' Come
with me, there's a good fellow. In three weeks it will be too late."

The tutor was prepared for this decision.

"By all means," said he. "We will go to-morrow to inquire after a
passenger or sailor who was on board a sailing-vessel, nationality
unknown, which happened to be off Havana in a heavy sea on October 20,
ten years ago."

"I know it's absurd," said Roger, "but I can't help it. I never seemed
so near my