official documents are usually mailed.

"That's the man."

Gregson gave a low whistle.

"Lord--Fitzhugh--Lee!" he read, slowly, as though scarce believing
his eyes. "Great Scott! A British peer!"

The cynical smile on Philip's lips cut his words short.

"Perhaps," he said. "But if there is a British lord up here he
isn't very well known, Greggy. No one knows of him. No one has
heard a rumor of him. That is why we can't go to the police or the
government. They'd give small credence to what we've got to show.
This letter wouldn't count the weight of a feather without further
evidence, and a lot of it. Besides, we haven't time to go to the
government. It is too far away and too slow. And as for the
police--I know of three in this territory, and there are fifteen
thousand square miles of mountains and plains and forest in their
'beat.' It's up to you and me to find this Lord Fitzhugh. If we
can do that we will be in a position to put a kibosh on this plot
in a hurry. If we fail to run him down--"

"What then?"

"We'll have to watch our chances. I've told you all that I know,
and you're on an even working basis with me. At first I thought
that I understood the object of those who are planning to ruin us
in this cowardly manner. But I don't now. If they ruin us they