On the third morning of their stay at Fairly, Algernon came into Edward's
room with a letter in his hand.

"There! read that!" he said. "It isn't ill-luck; it's infernal
persecution! What, on earth!--why, I took a close cab to the station.
You saw me get out of it. I'll swear no creditor of mine knew I was
leaving London. My belief is that the fellows who give credit have spies
about at every railway terminus in the kingdom. They won't give me three
days' peace. It's enough to disgust any man with civilized life; on my
soul, it is!"

Edward glanced at the superscription of the letter. "Not posted," he
remarked.

"No; delivered by some confounded bailiff, who's been hounding me."

"Bailiffs don't generally deal in warnings."

"Will you read it!" Algernon shouted.

The letter ran thus:--

"Mr. Algernon Blancove,--

"The writer of this intends taking the first opportunity of meeting
you, and gives you warning, you will have to answer his question
with a Yes or a No; and speak from your conscience. The
respectfulness of his behaviour to you as a gentleman will depend
upon that."