he stood he opened his mouth very wide to shout the one word
"Found!" Behind him Willie flung both his hands above his head and
let them fall dramatically. Renouard saw the four white-headed
people at the end of the terrace rise all together from their
chairs with an effect of sudden panic.

"I tell you--he--is--found," the patron of letters shouted
emphatically.

"What is this!" exclaimed Renouard in a choked voice. Miss Moorsom
seized his wrist suddenly, and at that contact fire ran through all
his veins, a hot stillness descended upon him in which he heard the
blood--or the fire--beating in his ears. He made a movement as if
to rise, but was restrained by the convulsive pressure on his
wrist.

"No, no." Miss Moorsom's eyes stared black as night, searching the
space before her. Far away the Editor strutted forward, Willie
following with his ostentatious manner of carrying his bulky and
oppressive carcass which, however, did not remain exactly
perpendicular for two seconds together.

"The innocent Arthur . . . Yes. We've got him," the Editor became
very business-like. "Yes, this letter has done it."

He plunged into an inside pocket for it, slapped the scrap of paper
with his open palm. "From that old woman. William had it in his
pocket since this morning when Miss Moorsom gave it to him to show
me. Forgot all about it till an hour ago. Thought it was of no
importance. Well, no! Not till it was properly read."