imated it would save time if she left her letters to him
unsealed. She seemed quite willing."

"You read them all, of course, before delivering them?"

"Of course. There was nothing in them except instructions about plowing,
fruit picking, and packing, and various bucolic matters."

"Oh! Nothing to be read between the lines? No cipher? No invisible ink?
No tricks of any sort?"

"Not one. I had a detective here. He said there was absolutely no harm
in the letters, in Miss Carryl, or in John Deal. I have all the letters
if you care to look at them; I always keep the originals and allow only
copies to be sent to old man Deal."

"Let me see those letters," suggested the Messenger.

The Colonel, who had been sitting on the camp table, got off wearily,
rummaged in a dispatch box, and produced three letters, all unsealed.

Two were directed in a delicately flowing, feminine hand to John Deal,
Waycross Orchard. The Messenger unfolded the first and read:

Dear Mr. Deal:

Colonel Gay has thought it necessary, for military reasons, to
revoke my pass; and I shall, therefore, be obliged hereafter to
communicate with you by letter only.

I wish, if there are negroes enough remaining in the quarters,
that you would start immediately a seedling orchard of white
Rare-ripe peaches from my orchard here. I have permission to
send the pits to you by the military post-rider who passes my
house. I will send you twenty every day as my peaches ripen.
Please prepare for planting. I hope your rheumatism is better.

Yours very truly,
Evelyn Carryl.

The Messenger's dark eyes lifted dreamily to the Colonel:

"You gave her permission to send the pits by your post-rider?"

"Yes," he said, smiling; "but I always look over them myself. You know
the wedding gown of the fairy princess was hidden in a grape seed."

"You are _quite_ sure about the pits?"

"Perfectly."

"Oh! When does the next batch of twenty go?"

"In about an hour. Miss Carryl puts them in a bag and gives them to my
messenger who brings them to me. Then I inspect every pit, tie up the
bag, seal it, and give it to my messenger. When he takes the mail to the
outposts he rides on for half a mile and leaves the sealed bag at Deal's
farm."

"Does your messenger know what is in the bag?"

"No, he doesn't."

She nodded, amused, saying careless