ng was to be
seen; he held it up to the window, as if he might hope to discover
something from the water-mark; but there was nothing in either of these
places of a nature calculated to set his troubled mind at rest. Then he
took a magnificent repeater watch from his waistcoat pocket and glanced
at the dial; the hands stood at half-past seven. He immediately threw
the letter on the table, and as he did so his anxiety found relief in
words.

"It's really the most extraordinary affair I ever had to do with," he
remarked. "And as I've been in the business just three-and-thirty years
at eleven a.m. next Monday morning, I ought to know something about it.
I only hope I've done right, that's all."

As he spoke, the chief bookkeeper, who had the treble advantage of being
tall, pretty, and just eight-and-twenty years of age, entered the room.
She noticed the open letter and the look upon her chief's face, and her
curiosity was proportionately excited.

"You seem worried, Mr. McPherson," she said tenderly, as she put down
the papers she had brought in for his signature.

"You have just hit it, Miss O'Sullivan," he answered, pushing them
farther on to the table. "I am worried about many things, but
particularly about this letter."

He handed the epistle to her, and she, being desirous of impressing him
with her business capabilities, read it with ostentatious care. But it
was noticeable that when she reached the signature she too turned back
to the beginning, and then deliberately read it over again. The manager
rose, crossed to the mantelpiece, and rang for the head waiter. Having
relieved his feelings in this way, he seated himself again at his
writing-table, put on his glasses, and stared at his companion, while
waiting for her to speak.

"It's very funny," she said. "Very funny indeed!"

"It's the most extraordinary communication I have ever received," he
replied with conviction. "You see it is written from Cuyaba, Brazil. The
date is three months ago to a day. Now I have taken the trouble to find
out where and what Cuyaba is."

He made this confession with an air of conscious pride, and having done
so, laid himself back in his chair, stuck his thumbs into the armholes
of his waistcoat, and looked at his fair subordinate for approval. Nor
was he destined to be disappointed. He was a bachelor in possession of a
snug income, and she, besides being pretty, was a lady with a keen eye
to the main chance.

"And where _is