Presently he asked for a certified copy of the following entry:
"August 1, 1856. Philip Caresfoot, bachelor, gentleman, to Hilda von
Holtzhausen, spinster (by license). Signed J. Few, curate; as witness,
Fred. Natt, Eliza Chambers."

That evening Hilda received an anonymous letter, written in a round
clerk's hand, that had been posted in the City. It was addressed to
Mrs. Roberts, and its contents ran thus:

"A sincere friend warns Mrs. Philip Caresfoot that her husband is
deceiving her, and has become entangled with a young lady of her
acquaintance. _Burn this; wait and watch!_"

The letter fell from her hands as though it had stung her.

"Mrs. Jacobs was right," she said aloud, with a bitter laugh, "men
always have a 'reason.' Oh, let him beware!" And she threw back her
beautiful head and the great blue eyes sparkled like those of a snake
about to strike. The sword of jealousy, that she had hitherto repelled
with the shield of a woman's trust in the man she loves, had entered
into her soul, and, could Philip have seen her under these new
circumstances, he would have realized that he had indeed good reason
to "beware." "No wonder," she went on, "no wonder that he finds her
name irritating upon my lips; no doubt to him it is a desecration. Oh,
oh!" And she flung herself on her face, and wept tears of jealous
rage.

"Well," said George to Mrs. Bellamy, as they drove home together after
the great dinner party (do not be shocked, my reader, Bellamy was _on
the bow_), "well, how shall we strike? Shall I go to the old man