When he left the train at the Waverley station he saw her on the platform and she gave him a slight bow, but he understood that their acquaintance ended there and was content.  After lunch he walked along, Princes Street and back to the castle.  The sky was clear, the sun shone on the old tall houses, and a nipping north-easter blew across the Forth.  In spite of its age and modern industry, the town looked strangely clean and cold.  No smoke could hang about it in the nipping wind; its prevailing color was granite-gray.  The Forth was a streak of raw indigo, and the hills all round were steely blue.  Edinburgh was like no English town; it had an austere half-classical beauty that was peculiar to itself; perhaps Quebec, though different, resembled it most of all the cities he had seen.

Then he remembered Carmen’s packet, and after asking a passer-by took a tram-car that carried him through the southern quarter of the town into a wide road, lined by well-built stone houses.  Standing in small, neat gardens, they ran back to the open country, with a bold ridge of moors in the distance.  Foster got down where he was directed and crossed the road to one of the houses.  They were all much alike and he thought hinted at the character of their occupants.  One would expect to find the people who lived there prosperous citizens with sober, conventional habits.

He went up a short, tiled path and rang the bell.  A smart maid-servant showed him into a small, morning-room, where everything was very neat, and after a few moments a man came in.  He was the kind of man Foster had expected to find in such a house, well-dressed, with polite but rather formal manners, and Foster briefly stated his business.  He thought the man looked at him sharply, but it was about four o’clock in the afternoon and the light was not good.

“Mr. Graham does not live here now; he left a week or two ago,” he said.  “Do you know him personally?”

“No,” said Foster.  “Miss Austin asked me to give him the packet.”

“Then you know Mr. Austin.”

“In a way,” said Foster, smiling.  “We speak when we meet on the street, but don’t get much further.  In fact, Austin’s a business rival of mine.”

The man seemed to ponder for a moment or two.  Then he said, “I gather that you want to deliver the packet, not to post it?”

“That’s so.  I don’t know if it matters much, but I’d like to put it in Graham’s hands.”

“Very well.  He’s gone to Newcastle, but I have his address somewhere.  If you will wait a minute or two, I’ll look.”

He took the packet, as if he meant to write the address on it, and Foster sat down.  The door of the room was half open and while he waited somebody entered the house.  Steps came along the hall, and a girl pushed the door back, and then stopped, looking at him in surprise.  He understood this as he saw she was the girl he had helped into the train.