e between ancient
trunks and packing cases, Peter said: "Mrs. Winston, I've made up my
mind to tell you something, and this is a good place to do it. When I've
told you, you'll understand why I didn't want Miss Keddison to find that
book of photographs, and why I don't even want it to exist in this
house."

Then he went on, and told me the most extraordinary and astonishing
story. I'd give anything to pass it on to you; and having got _so_ far,
you'll curse me for not going farther! But I had to promise I wouldn't
write or breathe the secret to any one except Jack. So, alas, you must
wait till the embargo is taken off.

Peter wouldn't let me look for the little red volume described by Aunt
Mary, because I was to say to her that I couldn't find it. He it was who
opened the drawer of the secretary where she had thought the book might
be, and I heard a rustling of papers for a minute or two. Then the
drawer was shut. I asked no questions, but when we went down to report
the failure of my quest I _fancied_ that the left side of Peter's chest
was slightly--very slightly--more prominent than the right, as if he had
something thicker than a handkerchief in his breast pocket.

I am writing this in my bedroom, by lamplight (no gas, no electricity
for Aunt Mary), and instead of hating our visit and nearly perishing, as
we expected to do, Jack and I are enchanted that we came. It evidently
_was_ to be, as servants say when they break one of your best cups. Now
we may be able to help (?) along.

Much love.

Yours,

MOLLY OF THE GUILTY SECRET.

XXVI

MOLLY WINSTON TO MERCEDES LANE

_Bretton Woods._

DEAREST GIRL:

I am positively afraid to write you, lest you and Monty think me a
_Beast_ for harrowing up your feelings about Peter Storm and the book of
photographs, and Aunt Mary's garret, the way I did, and then letting you
down with a dull thud.

Jack says it was cruelty to animals (he doesn't state what kind) to have
told you anything, as I couldn't tell you all. But I just got going, and
couldn't bear to stop till I had to!

We've travelled such a long way now, since Wenham, that I can't describe
all the places to you as I generally do in my letters, and, besides, it
might make you even more cros