“DEAR MR. NOEL—­Sad news has reached me from Switzerland.  My beloved brother is dying and his medical attendant summons me instantly to Zurich.  The serious necessity of availing myself of the earliest means of conveyance to the Continent leaves me but one alternative.  I must profit by the permission to leave England, if necessary, which you kindly granted to me at the beginning of my brother’s illness, and I must avoid all delay by going straight to London, instead of turning aside, as I should have liked, to see you first at St. Crux.

“Painfully as I am affected by the family calamity which has fallen on me, I cannot let this opportunity pass without adverting to another subject which seriously concerns your welfare, and in which (on that account) your old housekeeper feels the deepest interest.

“I am going to surprise and shock you, Mr. Noel.  Pray don’t be agitated! pray compose yourself!

“The impudent attempt to cheat you, which has happily opened your eyes to the true character of our neighbors at North Shingles, was not the only object which Mr. Bygrave had in forcing himself on your acquaintance.  The infamous conspiracy with which you were threatened in London has been in full progress against you under Mr. Bygrave’s direction, at Aldborough.  Accident—­I will tell you what accident when we meet—­has put me in possession of information precious to your future security.  I have discovered, to an absolute certainty, that the person calling herself Miss Bygrave is no other than the woman who visited us in disguise at Vauxhall Walk.

“I suspected this from the first, but I had no evidence to support my suspicions; I had no means of combating the false impression produced on you.  My hands, I thank Heaven, are tied no longer.  I possess absolute proof of the assertion that I have just made—­proof that your own eyes can see—­proof that would satisfy you, if you were judge in a Court of Justice.

“Perhaps even yet, Mr. Noel, you will refuse to believe me?  Be it so.  Believe me or not, I have one last favor to ask, which your English sense of fair play will not deny me.

“This melancholy journey of mine will keep me away from England for a fortnight, or, at most, for three weeks.  You will oblige me—­and you will certainly not sacrifice your own convenience and pleasure—­by staying through that interval with your friends at St. Crux.  If, before my return, some unexpected circumstance throws you once more into the company of the Bygraves, and if your natural kindness of heart inclines you to receive the excuses which they will, in that case, certainly address to you, place one trifling restraint on yourself, for your own sake, if not for mine.  Suspend your flirtation with the young lady (I beg pardon of all other young ladies for calling her so!) until my return.  If, when I come back, I fail to prove to you that Miss Bygrave is the woman who wore that disguise, and used