ed upon its flap. And it was
directed to "Mrs. Mary Grey, Old Crane Manor House, Richmond."

Craven Kyte would gaze at this mysterious letter in the utmost confusion
and obscurity of mind.

"Now, why in the world does she write a letter and direct it to
_herself_ and send it to me to post privately, by night, at the Wendover
post-office? And why did she give me only verbal instructions about it?
And why does she avoid even alluding to it in her letter to me? Why is
the envelope stamped with the letter L? And why, oh, why does the
handwriting so closely resemble that of Mr. Lytton?" he inquired of
himself, as his eyes devoured the superscription of the letter. "I can
not tell," he sighed. "It is too deep for my fathoming. I give it up. I
must blindly do her bidding, trusting to her implicitly, as I do, and as
I will."

Then, following her verbal instructions, given him in Richmond, in
regard to these mysterious letters, he put it away until dark, and then
stole out and dropped it secretly into the night-box at the post-office.

Five days passed, in which he received and re-mailed three of these
inexplicable documents.

Then, on Saturday morning, Bastiennello, the head of his firm, returned
to Wendover and resumed the control of his business.

On the evening of the same day a van arrived from Blue Cliff Hall,
bringing the heavy baggage of Mr. Alden Lytton, to be deposited at the
railway station and left until Monday morning, when the owner intended
to start for Richmond by the earliest train.

When Craven Kyte heard this he went straight to his principal and
claimed his promised leave of absence.

"Why, Kyte, you are in a tremendous hurry! Here I have not been back
twelve hours and you want to be off," said Bastiennello, with a shrug of
his shoulders.

"It is a case of necessity, sir, believe me," pleaded Craven Kyte.

"And this is Saturday night, the busiest time in the whole week,"
complained Bastiennello.

"Well, sir, you will not keep open after twelve, will you?"

"Certainly not after eleven."

"Nor will you need my services after that hour?"

"Of course not."

"Then that will enable me to serve here as usual until the hour of
closing, and then give me time to catch the midnight train to Richmond."

"Oh, well, if you can do that it will be all right, and I can have no
objection to your going to-night," said Bastiennello.

And so the affair was concluded.

The great village bazaar closed at elev