"Confound the rascal!" said Frere, growing crimson.

"'Remember me most affectionately to Sarah and little William, and
all friends who yet cherish the recollection of me, and bid them take
warning by my fate, and keep from evil courses. A good conscience is
better than gold, and no amount can compensate for the misery incident
to a return to crime. Whether I shall ever see you again, dear father,
is more than uncertain; for my doom is life, unless the Government
alter their plans concerning me, and allow me an opportunity to earn my
freedom by hard work.

"'The blessing of God rest with you, my dear father, and that you may be
washed white in the blood of the Lamb is the prayer of your

"'Unfortunate Son,' "John Rex" 'P.S.---Though your sins be as scarlet
they shall be whiter than snow.'"

"Is that all?" said Frere.

"That is all, sir, and a very touching letter it is."

"So it is," said Frere. "Now let me have it a moment, Mr. Meekin."

He took the paper, and referring to the numbers of the texts which he
had written in his pocket-book, began to knit his brows over Mr. John
Rex's impious and hypocritical production. "I thought so," he said, at
length. "Those texts were never written for nothing. It's an old trick,
but cleverly done."

"What do you mean?" said Meekin. "Mean!" cries Frere, with a smile at
his own acuteness. "This precious composition contains a very gratifying
piece of intelligence for Mr. Blicks, whoever he is. Some receiver, I've
no doubt. Look here, Mr. Meekin. Take the letter and this pencil, and
begin at the first text. The 102nd Psalm, from the 4th verse to the
12th inclusive, doesn't he say? Very good; that's nine verses, isn't
it? Well, now, underscore nine consecutive words from the second word
immediately following the next text quoted, 'I have hope,' etc. Have you
got it?"

"Yes," says Meekin, astonished, while all heads bent over the table.

"Well, now, his text is the eighteenth verse of the thirty-fifth Psalm,
isn't it? Count eighteen words on, then underscore five consecutive
ones. You've done that?"

"A moment--sixteen--seventeen--eighteen, 'authorities'."

"Count and score in the same way until you come to the word 'Texts'
somewhere. Vickers, I'll trouble you for the claret."

"Yes," said Meekin, after a pause. "Here it is--'the texts of Scripture
quoted by our chaplain'. But surely Mr. Frere--"

"Hold on a bit now," cries Frere. "What's the next quotation?--John
iii.