t through, and started just as I had
started when he saw the signature. Upon his face was a blank
expression, and he returned it to me without a word.

"Well?" I asked. "What is your opinion?"

"My opinion is the same as your own, Ralph, old fellow," he
answered slowly, looking me straight in the face. "It is
amazing--startling--tragic."

"You think, then, that the motive of the crime was jealousy?"

"The letter makes it quite plain," he answered huskily. "Give me the
others. Let me examine them. I know how severe this blow must be to
you, old fellow," he added, sympathetically.

"Yes, it has staggered me," I stammered. "I'm utterly dumfounded by
the unexpected revelation!" and I handed him the packet of
correspondence, which he placed upon the table, and, seating himself,
commenced eagerly to examine letter after letter.

While he was thus engaged I took up the first letter, and read it
through--right to the bitter end.

It was apparently the last of a long correspondence, for all the
letters were arranged chronologically, and this was the last of the
packet. Written from Neneford Manor, Northamptonshire, and vaguely
dated "Wednesday," as is a woman's habit, it was addressed to Mr.
Courtenay, and ran as follows:--

_"Words cannot express my contempt for a man who breaks his
word as easily as you break yours. A year ago, when you were
my father's guest, you told me that you loved me, and urged
me to marry you. At first I laughed at your proposal; then
when I found you really serious, I pointed out the
difference of our ages. You, in return, declared that you
loved me with all the ardour of a young man; that I was your
ideal; and you promised, by all you held most sacred, that
if I consented I should never regret. I believed you, and
believed the false words of feigned devotion which you
wrote to me later under seal of strictest secrecy. You went
to Cairo, and none knew of our secret--the secret that you
intended to make me your wife. And how have you kept your
promise? To-day my father has informed me that you are to
marry Mary! Imagine the blow to me! My father expects me to
rejoice, little dreaming how I have been fooled; how lightly
you have treated a woman's affections and aspirations. Some
there are who, finding themselves in my position, would
place in Mary's hands the packet of your correspondence
which