He read the letter. It was disappointing. Merely a plain, curt note, commencing: "Dear Douglas," making an appointment to meet at the Midland Hotel, St. Pancras, from which place it was dated and signed with the initial "V."
The discovery had wrought a great change in him. He was not the same man. A cloud overspread his countenance, and he remained buried in thought.
When he roused himself to glance at the second letter, he seemed yet more melancholy.
It certainly was an interesting and correspondingly mysterious communication.
Dated from 14 Rue d'Amsterdam, Paris, it commenced without any prefix, endearing or formal, and bore unmistakable signs of having been hastily written. It read as follows:
If you do not call before midday to-morrow I shall know that you refuse to entertain any conciliatory measure. Time does not admit of argument; I must act. At least, I must leave Paris to-morrow nighty and even then all may be known. Fail to come, and I shall know you are my enemy. If I am, unfortunate, rest assured I shall not suffer alone. Take my advice and seek me the moment you receive this, as it is imperative we should arrange matters before my departure. This course will be the best for you.
V.
"There was some secret between them!" Hugh said to himself in a strange half-whisper, as he finished the curious epistle. "I wonder what it was? It is clear she had a very strong motive in her desire to see him, and the letter, from its general tone, appears to relate to some transaction in which they were both implicated."
