ime, and apparently torn out of an old copy book.

On this paper was written a single sentence, thus worded:

"It is useless for the engineer James Starr to trouble himself, Simon
Ford's letter being now without object."

No signature.

CHAPTER II. ON THE ROAD

THE course of James Starr's ideas was abruptly stopped, when he got this
second letter contradicting the first.

"What does this mean?" said he to himself. He took up the torn envelope,
and examined it. Like the other, it bore the Aberfoyle postmark. It had
therefore come from the same part of the county of Stirling. The old
miner had evidently not written it. But, no less evidently, the author
of this second letter knew the overman's secret, since it expressly
contradicted the invitation to the engineer to go to the Yarrow shaft.

Was it really true that the first communication was now without object?
Did someone wish to prevent James Starr from troubling himself either
uselessly or otherwise? Might there not be rather a malevolent intention
to thwart Ford's plans?

This was the conclusion at which James Starr arrived, after mature
reflection. The contradiction which existed between the two letters only
wrought in him a more keen desire to visit the Dochart pit. And besides,
if after all it was a hoax, it was well worth while to prove it. Starr
also thought it wiser to give more credence to the first letter than to
the second; that is to say, to the request of such a man as Simon Ford,
rather than to the warning of his anonymous contradictor.

"Indeed," said he, "the fact of anyone endeavoring to influence my
resolution, shows that Ford's communication must be of great importance.
To-morrow, at the appointed time, I shall be at the rendezvous."

In the evening, Starr made his preparations for departure. As it might
happen that his absence would be prolonged for some days, he wrote to
Sir W. Elphiston, President of the Royal Institution, that he should be
unable to be present at the next meeting of the Society. He also wrote
to excuse himself from two or three engagements which he had made for
the week. Then, having ordered his servant to pack a traveling bag, he
went to bed, more excited than the affair perhaps warranted.

The next day, at five o'clock, James Starr jumped out of bed, dressed
himself warmly, for a cold rain was falling, and left his house in the
Canongate, to go to Granton Pier to catch the steamer, which in three
hours would ta