lse to do. In spite of her feelings, in spite of the cost, she must
have the letter.

"Very good," said Banker, and he departed.

Banker had no lodgings in particular, but he went to a brasserie and
procured writing materials. He had some letters in his pocket,--old,
dirty letters which had been there for a long time,--and one of them was
from Raminez, which had been written when they were both in California,
and which Banker had kept because it contained an unguarded reference to
Raminez's family in Spain, and Banker had thought that the information
might some day be useful to him. He was a good penman, this
Rackbird,--he was clever in many ways,--and he could imitate handwriting
very well, and he set himself to work to address an envelope in the
handwriting of Raminez.

For some time he debated within himself as to what title he should use in
addressing the lady. Should it be "Senora" or "Madame"? He inclined to
the first appellation, but afterwards thought that as the letter was to
go to her in France, and that as most likely she understood French, and
not Spanish, Raminez would probably address her in the former language,
and therefore he addressed the envelope to "Madame Raminez, by private
hand." As to the writing of a letter he did not trouble himself at all.
He simply folded up two sheets of paper and put them in the envelope,
sealing it tightly. Now he was prepared, and after waiting until the
proper time had arrived he proceeded to the Gardens.

Edna drove to her hotel in great agitation. She was angry, she was
astounded, she was almost frightened. What could have happened to
Captain Horn?

But two things encouraged and invigorated her: he was alive, and he had
written to her. That was everything, and she would banish all
speculations and fears until she had read his letter, and, until she had
read it, she must keep the matter a secret--she must not let anybody
imagine that she had heard anything, or was about to hear anything. By
good fortune, she had five thousand francs in hand, and, with these in
her pocket-book, she ordered her carriage half an hour before the time
appointed.

When Cheditafa heard the order, he was beset by a new consternation. He
had been greatly troubled when his mistress had gone to the Gardens the
first time--not because there was anything strange in that, for any lady
might like to walk in such a beautiful place, but because she was alone,
and, with a Rackbird in Paris, his la