There were no letters.

There was a map of the district, and under the names of several of the villages and places on either side of the Tweed, between Berwick and Kelso, heavy marks in blue pencil had been made.

I, who knew something of Gilverthwaite's habits, took it that these were the places he had visited during his seven weeks' stay with us.

And folded in the map were scraps of newspaper cuttings, every one of them about some antiquity or other in the neighbourhood, as if such things had an interest for him.

And in another pocket was a guide-book, much thumbed, and between two of the leaves, slipped as if to mark a place, was a registered envelope.
"That'll be what he got yesterday afternoon!" I exclaimed.