your correspondent or the carelessness of the post."

She was not the thief, for she is always intensely polite when she
intends to thwart me, thought Treherne, and, apologizing for his
rudeness in disturbing them, he rolled himself to his nook in a sunny
window and became apparently absorbed in a new magazine.

Mrs. Snowdon was opening the general's letters for him, and, having
finished her little task, she roamed away into the library, as if in
search of a book. Presently returning with one, she approached Treherne,
and, putting it into his hand, said, in her musically distinct voice,
"Be so kind as to find for me the passage you spoke of last night. I am
curious to see it."

Instantly comprehending her stratagem, he opened it with apparent
carelessness, secured the tiny note laid among the leaves, and,
selecting a passage at hazard, returned her book and resumed his own.
Behind the cover of it he unfolded and read these words:

_I understand, but do not be anxious; the line I left was merely
this--"I must see you alone, tell me when and where." No one can
make much of it, and I will discover the thief before dinner. Do
nothing, but watch to whom I speak first on entering, when we meet
in the evening, and beware of that person._

Quietly transferring the note to the fire with the wrapper of the
magazine, he dismissed the matter from his mind and left Mrs. Snowdon
to play detective as she pleased, while he busied himself about his
own affairs.