I discovered a telegraph-boy standing
by the hut, apparently engaged in hunting for the bell.

"All right, sonny," I called out. "Bring it along here."

I walked to the door, and the next minute I was being handed an
envelope addressed to me at the Tilbury Post-Office in Joyce's
handwriting.

"It came the last post yesterday," explained the lad. "We couldn't let
you have it until this morning because there wasn't any one to send."

"Well, sit down a moment, Charles," I said; "and I'll just see if
there's any answer."

He seated himself on the bench, staring round at everything with
obvious interest. With a pleasant feeling of anticipation I slit open
the envelope and pulled out its contents.

"CHELSEA,

"_Monday._

"DEAREST JAMES,

"It looks rather nice written--doesn't it! I am coming down tomorrow
by the train which gets into Tilbury at 2.15. I shall walk across to
the _Betty_ and sit there peacefully till you turn up. Whatever stage
the work is at, don't be later than 7.30. I shall have supper ready by
then--and it will be a supper worth eating. My poor darling, you must
be simply starved. I've lots to tell you, James, but it will keep till
tomorrow.

"With all my love,

"JOYCE."

I read this through (it was so like Joyce I could almost fancy I heard
her speaking), and then I turned to the telegraph-boy, who was still
occupied in taking stock of his surroundings.

"There's no answer, thank you, Charles," I said. "How much do I owe
you?"

He pulled himself together abruptly. "It will be two shillings, the
post-office fee, sir."

"Well, there it is," I said; "and there's another shilling for
yourself."

He jumped up and pocketed the coins with an expression of gratitude.
Then he paused irresolutely. "Beg pardon, sir," he observed, "but
ain't you a gentleman who makes things?"

I laughed. "We most of us do that, Charles," I said, "if they're only
mistakes."

He looked round the shed with an expression of slight awe. "Can you
make fireworks?" he asked.

I glanced instinctively at the little heap of powder. "Of a kind," I
admitted modestly. "Why?"

He gave an envious sigh. "I only wondered if it was hard, sir. I'd
rather be able to make fireworks than do anything."

"It's not very hard," I said consolingly. "You go on bringing my
letters and telegrams for me like a good boy directly they arrive, and
before I leave here I'll show you how to do it. Only you mustn't talk
about it to anybody,