Mr. Deedes went off at once to his room, and wrote and despatched the
following letter:--

"MY DEAR BOY,--I saw by an advertisement in last week's
_Era_ that you are still out of an engagement. I have an opening
for you down here in a drama of real life. It will be greatly to
your advantage to accept it, so do not hesitate for a moment. Come
without delay. Book yourself from Euston Square to Windermere. Take
steamer from the latter place to Newby Bridge. There, at the hotel,
await my arrival. Bear in mind that down here my name is _Mr.
Joshua Deedes_, and that yours is _James Jasmin_, a footman, at
present out of a situation. To a person of your intelligence I need
not say more.

"Your affectionate father,
"S.M.

"N.B.--This communication is secret and confidential. All expenses
paid. Do not on any account fail to come. I will be at the Newby
Bridge Hotel on Thursday morning at eleven."

This letter he addressed, "Mr. James Madgin, Royal Tabard Theatre,
Southwark, London." Having posted it with his own hands, he went for a
long, solitary ramble among the hills. He wanted to think out and
elaborate the great scheme that had unfolded itself before his dazzled
eyes while the landlord was talking to him. He had seen the whole
compass of it at a glance; he wanted now to consider it in detail. There
was an elation in his eye and an elasticity in his tread that made him
seem ten years younger than on the previous day.