ke said grimly, as he tore the envelope open.

This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet of
paper another envelope. The duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it some
words were written. These:

"The duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, that one
really hasn't the heart to refuse her.

"Her grace's communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will find
inclosed with this."

"Knowles," said the duke, in a voice which actually trembled, "Knowles,
hoax or no hoax, I will be even with the gentleman who wrote that."

Handing the sheet of paper to Mr. Knowles, his grace turned his attention
to the envelope which had been inclosed. It was a small, square envelope,
of the finest quality, and it reeked with perfume. The duke's countenance
assumed an added frown--he had no fondness for envelopes which were
scented. In the center of the envelope were the words, "To the Duke of
Datchet," written in the big, bold, sprawling hand which he knew so well.

"Mabel's writing," he said, half to himself, as, with shaking fingers, he
tore the envelope open.

The sheet of paper which he took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. It,
too, emitted what his grace deemed the nauseous odors of the perfumer's
shop. On it was written this letter:

"MY DEAR HEREWARD--For Heaven's sake do what these people
require! I don't know what has happened or where I am, but I am
nearly distracted! They have already cut off some of my hair, and
they tell me that, if you don't let them have five hundred pounds
in gold by half-past five, they will cut off my little finger
too. I would sooner die than lose my little finger--and--I don't
know what else besides.

"By the token which I send you, and which has never, until now,
been off my breast, I conjure you to help me.

"Hereward--_help me_!"

When he read that letter the duke turned white--very white, as white as
the paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on to Knowles.

"I suppose that also is a hoax?"

Mr. Knowles was silent. He still yielded to his constitutional disrelish
to commit himself. At last he asked:

"What is it that your grace proposes to do?"

The duke spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personal
animosity toward the inoffensive Mr. Knowles.

"I propose, with your permission, to release the duchess from the custody
of my estimable correspondent. I propose--alway