He had opened the note and he smoothed out the paper quietly and said, 'What is this.

I could not help it--I turned cold and began to shiver.

I could not imagine what was coming." "'Is it my note to Mr.Ffolliott ?' I asked.
"'Yes, it is your note to Mr.Ffolliott,' and he read it aloud.

"Do not come to the house.

I will meet you in Bartyon Wood." That is a nice note for a man's wife to have written, to be picked up and read by a stranger, if your confessor is not cautious in the matter of letters from women----' "When he begins a thing in that way, you may always know that he has planned everything--that you can do nothing--I always know.