uctive yesterday morning.

"Miss Rosser," said Miller, "left a letter for you."

"Why on earth couldn't you tell me so at once!" demanded Colonel
Faversham.

"And a parcel," said Miller.

"Where are they? Where are they?" exclaimed the colonel; and Miller
went to the rear of the hall, returning the next moment with a
fair-sized, brown-paper parcel in his hand. It obviously contained the
crocodile-hide dressing-bag, which had been Bridget's birthday present;
the handle, indeed, projected for convenience of transport.

"Would you like to step into the dining-room, colonel?" suggested
Miller, giving him a square envelope.

"Damn the dining-room!" shouted Colonel Faversham, as with trembling
fingers he broke the seal, whilst Miller still held the bag. Colonel
Faversham did not wait to fix his eye-glass.

"DEAR COLONEL FAVERSHAM" (he read),

"How sorry I am to give you pain, and I know that I am doing so. I
cannot possibly marry you, and I have not the courage to say so to your
face. Why didn't you understand how hard I tried to tell you this
morning--you really might have helped me out! You have always been so
very kind. I positively hate to treat you badly. I have put all your
presents inside the dressing-bag. Please try to forgive me, although I
don't suppose you ever will! If it is any consolation to you, I
feel--oh, so miserable!

"Yours sincerely,

"BRIDGET ROSSER."

Although the contents of the letter were easy enough to master, Colonel
Faversham must needs fix his monocle, in order to read it again. "That
infernal Jimmy!" he muttered, then folded the sheet of paper and
bestowed it in his breast pocket.

"The parcel, colonel," suggested Miller, as he turned towards the door.

For a moment Colonel Faversham stood scowling at the butler and what he
held in his hand. His first impulse was to refuse to have anything to
do with it; but, after all, its contents were of considerable value.
He might, perhaps, leave it at his club, although it could not remain
there for ever, and perhaps it would be better to take it at once to
Grandison Square and lock it up in the smoking-room cupboard.

At last he put out his hand, and came forth to the doorstep holding the
crocodile-hide bag.

"Good-morning, colonel!" said Miller, but although his tone was even
more suave and respectful than usual, Colonel Faversham fancied he
detected in it something ironic. No doubt the man had formed his own
opinion