Cave. "I was not to ask questions, you remember."
"You took her for a gentlewoman?"
"Yes--from her speech and manner."
"Did she imply to you that she was an intermediary?"
"Yes--she spoke of some one, indefinitely, you know, for whom she
was acting."
"And she told you, I think, that you had been recognized, in
London, since your arrival, by some one who had known you in
Australia years before?"
"Yes--certainly she told me that."
"Just let me look at that typewritten letter again, will you?" asked Mr.
Carless. "It seems impossible, but we might get something out of that."
Mr. Cave handed the letter over, and once more it was passed from hand to
hand: finally it fell into the hands of Miss Penkridge, who began to
examine it with obvious curiosity.
"Afraid there's nothing to be got out of that!" sighed Mr. Carless. "The
rogues were cunning enough to typewrite the message--if there'd been any
handwriting, now, we might have had a chance! You say there was nothing
on the envelope but your name, Mr. Cave?"
Mr. Cave opened his pocketbook again.
"There is the envelope," he said. "Nothing but _Mr.
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