r inclined his head. "Poison--it has
been running through my thoughts all the while we have been talking.
I suppose I ought not to show you this; the fire is its only proper
receptacle--"

"Poison?" echoed Brother Copas. "And about Bonaday? who, good soul,
never hurt a fly!"

"I rejoice to hear you say it," said the Master, plainly relieved,
and he appeared half-minded to withdraw and pocket the scrap of paper
for which Copas held out a hand. "It is an anonymous letter, and--
er--evidently the product of a foul mind--"

Brother Copas took it and, fumbling for his glasses, gazed
around in search of the handiest light by which to read it.
Master Blanchminster hurried to catch up the electric lamp and set it
on the mantel-shelf above his shoulder. Its coil of silk-braided
wire dragging across the papers on the table, one or two dropped on
the floor; and whilst the Master stooped to collect them Brother
Copas read the letter, first noting at a glance that the paper was
cheap and the handwriting, though fairly legible, at once uneducated
and painfully disguised.

It ran--

"Master,--This is to warn you that you are too kind and anyone
can take you in. It wasn't enough Bonaday should get the best
rooms in S. Hospital but now you give him leave for this child
which every one in S. Hospital knows is a bastard. If you want
to find the mother, no need to go far. Why is Nurse B--hanging
about his rooms now. Which they didn't carry it so far before,
but they was acquainted years ago, as is common talk.
God knows my reasons for writing this much are honest, but I
hate to see your goodness put upon, and a scandal which the
whole S. Hospital feels bitter about--such letchery and
wickedness in our midst, and nobody knowing how to put a stop to
it all.

"Yours obdtly.,

"A Well Wisher."

"The handwriting," said Brother Copas, "is a woman's, though
disguised."

The Master, erect again, having collected his papers, eyed Brother
Copas as if surprised by his calm tone.

"You make nothing of it, then?"

"P'st!"

"I--I was hoping so." The Master's voice was tremulous, apologetic.
"It came by this evening's post, not half an hour ago. . . . I am not
used to receive such things: yet I know what ought to be done with
them--toss them into the fire at once and dismiss them from your
mind