rations.

A long time passed before she made her appearance, and he was beginning
to wonder with some uneasiness if she had decided to postpone her
departure after all, when at length she joined him, ready dressed for the
journey. She sat down beside him, looking very handsome and dignified.

"I am glad of this opportunity of seeing you alone, my dear Trevor," she
began, "as, after long deliberation, I have at last decided to take you
into my confidence upon a matter that has been greatly troubling me."

Mordaunt laid aside the proof of an article with which he had been
occupying himself, and replied with his customary courtesy, "I am always
glad if I can be of use to you."

"Thank you," said Aunt Philippa.

She carried a bag upon her wrist, and she proceeded to open and search
within it. Finally she extracted, a piece of folded notepaper, and handed
it to him.

"Will you read that first?" she said. "It will make a difficult task
easier."

Mordaunt took the paper, saw that it was a letter, and proceeded to read
it under her watching eyes.

There followed a long, quiet pause before he said, "I presume that this
is not addressed to you."

"There," said Aunt Philippa, "you are quite correct."

"Then--" He folded it sharply, and made as if he would hand it back to
her, but altered his purpose and closed his fingers upon it instead.
"Will you explain?" he said.

Aunt Philippa proceeded to do so in her most judicial manner. "That
letter I found on the terrace yesterday morning and, believing it to be
one of my own that had blown out of my window, I picked it up and later
placed it in my letter-case. In the evening I took it out with the
intention of answering my correspondent, but upon perusing it, I
discovered it to be the communication which you hold in your hand. As you
perceive, it was written from Sandacre Court about a week ago, and I now
realize that it is not the first letter which the writer has sent to this
house. You may remember a discussion arising one morning on the subject
of a letter from Sandacre Court. That letter, I am now convinced, was
written by the same hand, and these facts point to the very unpleasant
conclusion that the man who wrote them--Guillaume Rodolphe--has been
levying blackmail. He is apparently aware of a most unfortunate episode
which occurred at Valpre in Chris's early girlhood--"

Mordaunt held up his hand abruptly; his face was set in iron lines. "I
have already heard of t