Was the letter there?
Would the hands of the zealous public servant suddenly stop? Yes! They
stopped, and picked out a letter from the rest.
"'Noel Vanstone, Esquire,' did you say?" asked the postmaster, keeping
the letter in his own hand.
"'Noel Vanstone, Esquire,'" replied the captain, "'Admiral Bartram's,
St. Crux-in-the-Marsh.'"
"Ossory, Essex," chimed in the postmaster, throwing the letter back
into the box. "The lady has made no mistake, sir. The address is quite
right."
Nothing but a timely consideration of the heavy debt he owed to
appearances prevented Captain Wragge from throwing his tall white hat up
in the air as soon as he found the street once more. All further doubt
was now at an end. Mrs. Lecount had written to her master--therefore
Mrs. Lecount was on her way to Zurich!
With his head higher than ever, with the tails of his respectable
frock-coat floating behind him in the breeze, with his bosom's native
impudence sitting lightly on its throne, the captain strutted to the inn
and called for the railway time-table. After making certain calculations
(in black and white, as a matter of course), he ordered his chaise to
be ready in an hour--so as to reach the railway in time for the
second train running to London--with which there happened to be no
communication from Aldborough by coach.
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