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This I enclosed in the envelope he handed to me, when, ringing a bell, he handed it to the footman who appeared, with orders to take it to his Excellency and await a reply. The response came in a few minutes. "His Excellency will give audience to the English m'sieur."
Steve Allenwood glanced up from the envelope he had just received. "Sure. Best cut through the bluff. There's a trail straight through brings you to his house. It's mostly a mile and a half. Say, you'll need supper. Get right along back when you've finished with him. When did you start out?" "Yesterday morning, sir." The Inspector whistled. "Fifty miles a day. You travelled some."
She might not walk on the highway, but a steep short-cut that joined the main road at the bottom of the hill was quite at her disposal She walked up and down for more than an hour. At last she saw some one on the Florence road. She walked on quickly. It was the telegraph-boy. She tore open the envelope and read: "Venice. Exam. on Wednesday. Start at once. A rivederci."
The paper within the envelope had been placed far enough down so that its top part was not exposed to my view. The envelope thus appeared perfectly natural, as an ordinary one with nothing in it. He thus held the envelope in his left hand, flap open wide, with the back side of the envelope later to be sealed, facing me.
Then he wondered where the letter had been posted, thinking this might throw some light upon the mystery. He looked at the envelope, and read the post-mark: "Rue du Cardinal Lemoine." This fact told him nothing. Once more he read the letter, spelling over each word, and trying to put a different construction on the horrible phrases that stared him in the face.
"I'm not going to wish you good luck, but if you have trouble with the school people when you get back, come along and stop with Florence. I'll interview the managers, and, if needful, find you another job." He hurried off, and when the rattle of wheels died away Agatha opened the envelope and found a check for a hundred dollars. She felt moved, but smiled.
I would show you what I had been able to do, and ask you to take charge of a copy of the petition." He pointed to a long envelope lying on the table. "I have drafted it myself I think it puts all the points we can possibly urge but as to the names " He took out a folded sheet of paper from his breast pocket. "It won't do," he said, looking down at it, and shaking his head.
He changed his position, so as to interpose his person between the packet and any one in the room. "Read the letter," he told the girl. "It is addressed to you." She handed it to him. Her eyes were blinded with tears. "Read it for me, please," she said. He tore open the envelope and read the few lines scrawled upon a half sheet of notepaper.
To big Max the envelope meant an education for his son. To Bill Connley it meant food and clothing for his brood of children. To young Scot it meant books for his study. To others it meant medicine or doctors for sick ones at home. To others it meant dissipation and dishonor. To all alike those pay envelopes meant Life.
"It's a new kind of pen. I got it for a notice in the Free Press." "Is Henry Bird going to edit the paper?" "I don't know, and I don't care," answered Bartley. "I'll go out and get an envelope, and ask the landlord what's the quickest way to get the letter to your father." He took up his hat, but she laid her hand on his arm. "Oh, send for him!" she said.
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