Syme caught the thing while instinctively warding it off, and discovered that it consisted of two crumpled papers.

One was addressed to himself, and the other to Dr.Bull, with a very long, and it is to be feared partly ironical, string of letters after his name.

Dr.Bull's address was, at any rate, considerably longer than his communication, for the communication consisted entirely of the words:-- "What about Martin Tupper now ?" "What does the old maniac mean ?" asked Bull, staring at the words.

"What does yours say, Syme ?" Syme's message was, at any rate, longer, and ran as follows:-- "No one would regret anything in the nature of an interference by the Archdeacon more than I.I trust it will not come to that.

But, for the last time, where are your goloshes?
The thing is too bad, especially after what uncle said." The President's cabman seemed to be regaining some control over his horse, and the pursuers gained a little as they swept round into the Edgware Road.