ry!' Good
Lord, what does it all mean?" Then, instinctively he did what he should
have done at first, turned the sheet to glance at the signature. There
it was.

"Your shamefully injured wife,

"Adela Sellon."

"Oh, good Lord, I've done it now!" he cried again, the horrible truth
dawning upon him that he had not only opened and read another man's
letter, but had surprised another man's secret, and that a secret of a
peculiarly awkward nature. How he anathematised his carelessness. He
snatched up the envelope, which he had thrown down among the others.
There was the address--plain as a pikestaff. Yet, stay, not so very
plain after all. It was directed "M. Sellon, Esq." But the long
letters were dwarfed and the short extended. The "M" at a casual glance
looked not unlike "Ch," a common abbreviation on envelopes of Selwood's
longish Christian name. Then like lightning, his memory sped back to
the day of his guest's arrival and his own joke relative to each of them
holding half their names in common. "We are both `Sells,'" he had said
with a laugh, and now into what a cursed mistake had that coincidence
led him.

Poor Chris groaned aloud as he thought of the awkward position in which
his carelessness had placed him. It would have been bad enough had the
letter been of an ordinary nature. But being such as it was, the
probabilities that its real owner would believe in accident having
anything to do with the matter were infinitesimal. No. He would
certainly suspect him of a deliberate intention to pry into his affairs.
And what made things worse was the fact of the other man being his
guest.

But only momentarily did this idea serve to divert his thoughts from the
extreme awkwardness of his own position. Violet Avory was his guest,
too; and with far greater claim on his consideration than this
stranger--for was she not under his care? And as the full force of the
disclosure with which he had so involuntarily become acquainted--and its
consequences--struck home to his mind, honest Chris felt fired with hot
anger against the absent Sellon. What business had the latter--a
married man--laying himself out to win poor Violet's heart? That he had
succeeded--and thoroughly succeeded--had been only too obvious to every
member of the Sunningdale household--and that for some time past. No,
no. Sellon had abused his hospitality in a shameful manner, and in so
doing had almost forfeited any claim to considerati