ands. She perused the first few sentences with
a puckered, puzzled brow; then of a sudden her eyes grew wide and
round. Despite herself she uttered a little gasping cry.

"It contains a clue at least?" asked Mr. Basket, who had been
watching her face anxiously. "Dear lady, what does he say?"

"Nun--nothing," Miss Marty caught at the back of a Chippendale chair
for support.

"Nothing?" echoed Mr. Basket blankly.

"Nothing--That is to say I can't tell you. Oh, this is horrible!"

"But pardon me," Mr. Basket insisted. "After travelling all the way
from Plymouth!"

"I can't possibly tell you," she repeated.

"But, madam, consider my responsibility! I must really ask you to
consider my responsibility."

"If I could only realise it! Oh, give me time, sir!"

"Certainly, certainly; by all means take your time. Nevertheless,
when you consider my distress of mind, I appeal to you, madam, to be
merciful and relieve it. After travelling all this distance in the
dark--"

"In the dark?" queried Miss Marty, with a glance at the window.

"Tormented by a thousand speculations. In my house, too! In good
health, and apparently the best of spirits; and then without a word,
like the snuff of a candle!"

"His brain must be affected," Miss Marty murmured, gazing at the
letter again. The handwriting swam before her. "Excuse me, sir, I
will not detain you a minute."

She ran from the room and upstairs to her room, her knees shaking
beneath her. Heaven grant that the Doctor was at home! She agitated
her window-blind violently and drew it down to the third pane.
"You are wanted--urgent," was the message it conveyed.

Yes, he was at home. "I come, instantly," answered her lover's
window; and in less than a minute, to her infinite relief, the Doctor
emerged from his front doorway and came bustling up the street almost
at a trot.

She ran down and admitted him. In her face he read instantly that
something serious had happened; something serious if not
catastrophical: but with finger on lip she enjoined silence and led
the way to the parlour.

"This gentleman has just arrived from Plymouth, with serious news of
the Major."

"Serious? He is not ill, I trust?"

"Worse," said Mr. Basket.

"But first," interposed Miss Marty, "you must read this letter.
Yes, yes!"--blushing hotly, she thrust it into the Doctor's
unresisting hands--"you have the right. Forgive me if I seem
indecorous: but in such a situation yo