through Parliament House； and I shall be high…treasonedas safe as
housesand be fined； and who'll pay for a poor martel！ O； 'tis a
world！'
'Trust in the Lordhe'll pay。'
'He pay a b'lieve！ why should he when he didn't drink the drink？ He
pay a b'lieve！ D'ye think the man's a fool？'
'Well； well； I had no intention of hurting your feelingsbut how
was I to know you were so sensitive？'
'Trueyou were not to know I was so sensitive。 Here's a caddle wi'
these letters！ Guide my soul； what will Billy do！'
Manston offered his services。
'They are to be divided；' the man said。
'How？' said Manston。
'These； for the village； to be carried on into it： any for the
vicarage or vicarage farm must be left in the box of the gate…post
just here。 There's none for the vicarage…house this mornen； but I
saw when I started there was one for the clerk o' works at the new
church。 This is it； isn't it？'
He held up a large envelope； directed in Edward Springrove's
handwriting：
'MR。 O。 GRAYE；
CLERK OF WORKS；
TOLCHURCH；
NEAR ANGLEBURY。'
The letter…box was scooped in an oak gate…post about a foot square。
There was no slit for inserting the letters； by reason of the
opportunity such a lonely spot would have afforded mischievous
peasant…boys of doing damage had such been the case； but at the side
was a small iron door； kept close by an iron reversible strap locked
across it。 One side of this strap was painted black； the other
white； and white or black outwards implied respectively that there
were letters inside； or none。
The postman had taken the key from his pocket and was attempting to
insert it in the keyhole of the box。 He touched one side； the
other； above； below； but never made a straight hit。
'Let me unlock it；' said Manston； taking the key from the postman。
He opened the box and reached out with his other hand for Owen's
letter。
'No； no。 O nono；' the postman said。 'As one ofMajesty's
servantscareMajesty's mailsdutyput lettersown hands。' He
slowly and solemnly placed the letter in the small cavity。
'Now lock it；' he said； closing the door。
The steward placed the bar across； with the black side outwards；
signifying 'empty；' and turned the key。
'You've put the wrong side outwards！' said the postman。 ''Tisn't
empty。'
'And dropped the key in the mud； so that I can't alter it；' said the
steward； letting something fall。
'What an awkward thing！'
'It is an awkward thing。'
They both went searching in the mud； which their own trampling had
reduced to the consistency of pap； the postman unstrapping his
little lantern from his breast； and thrusting it about； close to the
ground； the rain still drizzling down； and the dawn so tardy on
account of the heavy clouds that daylight seemed delayed
indefinitely。 The rays of the lantern were rendered individually
visible upon the thick mist； and seemed almost tangible as they
passed off into it； after illuminating the faces and knees of the
two stooping figures dripping with wet； the postman's cape and
private bags； and the steward's valise； glistening as if they had
been varnished。
'It fell on the grass；' said the postman。
'No； it fell in the mud；' said Manston。 They searched again。
'I'm afraid we shan't find it by this light；' said the steward at
length； washing his muddy fingers in the wet grass of the bank。
'I'm afraid we shan't；' said the other； standing up。
'I'll tell you what we had better do；' said Manston。 'I shall be
back this way in an hour or so； and since it was all my fault； I'll
look again； and shall be sure to find it in the daylight。 And I'll
hide the key here for you。' He pointed to a spot behind the post。
'It will be too late to turn the index then； as the people will have
been here； so that the box had better stay as it is。 The letter
will only be delayed a day； and that will not be noticed； if it is；
you can say you placed the iron the wrong way without knowing it；
and all will be well。'
This was agreed to by the postman as the best thing to be done under
the circumstances； and the pair went on。 They had passed the
village and come to a crossroad； when the steward； telling his
companion that their paths now diverged； turned off to the left
towards Carriford。
No sooner was the postman out of sight and hearing than Manston
stalked back to the vicarage letter…box by keeping inside a fence；
and thus avoiding the village； arrived here； he took the key from
his pocket； where it had been concealed all the time； and abstracted
Owen's letter。 This done； he turned towards home； by the help of
what he carried in his valise adjusting himself to his ordinary
appearance as he neared the quarter in which he was known。
An hour and half's sharp walking brought him to his own door in
Knapwater Park。
2。 EIGHT O'CLOCK A。M。
Seated in his private office he wetted the flap of the stolen
letter； and waited patiently till the adhesive gum could be
loosened。 He took out Edward's note； the accounts； the rosebud； and
the photographs； regarding them with the keenest interest and
anxiety。
The note； the accounts； the rosebud； and his own photograph； he
restored to their places again。 The other photograph he took
between his finger and thumb； and held it towards the bars of the
grate。 There he held it for half…a…minute or more； meditating。
'It is a great risk to run； even for such an end；' he muttered。
Suddenly； impregnated with a bright idea； he jumped up and left the
office for the front parlour。 Taking up an album of portraits；
which lay on the table； he searched for three or four likenesses of
the lady who had so lately displaced Cytherea； which were
interspersed among the rest of the collection； and carefully
regarded them。 They were taken in different attitudes and styles；
and he compared each singly with that he held in his hand。 One of
them； the one most resembling that abstracted from the letter in
general tone； size； and attitude； he selected from the rest； and
returned with it to his office。
Pouring some water into a plate； he set the two portraits afloat
upon it； and sitting down tried to read。
At the end of a quarter of an hour； after several ineffectual
attempts； he found that each photograph would peel from the card on
which it was mounted。 This done； he threw into the fire the
original likeness and the recent card； stuck upon the original card
the recent likeness from the album； dried it before the fire； and
placed it in the envelope with the other scraps。
The result he had obtained； then； was this： in the envelope were
now two photographs； both having the same photographer's name on the
back and consecutive numbers attached。 At the bottom of the one
which showed his own likeness； his own name was written down； on the
other his wife's name was written； whilst the central feature； and
whole matter to which this latter card and writing referred； the
likeness of a lady mounted upon it； had been changed。
Mrs。 Manston entered the room； and begged him to come to breakfast。
He followed her and they sat down。 During the meal he told her what
he had done； with scrupulous regard to every detail； and showed her
the result。
'It is indeed a great risk to run；' she said； sipping her tea。
'But it would be a greater not to do it。'
'Yes。'
The envelope was again fastened up as before； and Manston put it in
his pocket and went out。 Shortly afterwards he was seen； on
horseback； riding in a direction towards Tolchurch。 Keeping to the
fields； as well as he could； for the greater part of the way； he
dropped into the road by the vicarage letter…box； and looking
carefully about； to ascertain that no person was near； he restored
the letter to its nook； placed the key in its hiding…place； as he
had promised the postman； and again rode homewards by a roundabout
way；
3。 AFTERNOON
The letter was brought to Owen Graye； the same afternoon； by one of
the vicar's servants who had been to the box with a duplicate key；
as usual； to leave letters for the evening post。 The man found that
the index had told falsely that morning for the first time within
his recollection； but no particular attention was paid to the
mistake； as it was considered。 The contents of the envelope were
scrutinized by Owen and flung aside as useless。
The next morning brought Springrove's second letter； the existence
of which was unknown to Manston。 The sight of Edward's handwriting
again raised the expectations of brother and sister； till Owen had
opened the envelope and pulled out the twig and verse。
'Nothing that's of the slightest use； after all；' he said to her；
'we are as far as ever from the merest shadow of legal proof that
would convict him of what I am morally certain he did； marry you；
suspecting； if not knowing； her to be alive all the time。'
'What has Edward sent？' said Cytherea。
'An old amatory verse in Manston's writing。 Fancy；' he said
bitterly； 'this is the strain he addressed her in when they were
courtingas he did you； I suppose。'
He handed her the verse and she read
'EUNICE。
'Whoso for hours or lengthy days
Shall catch her aspect's changeful rays；
Then turn away； can none recall
Beyond a galaxy of all
In hazy portraiture；
Lit by the light of azure eyes
Like summer days by summer skies：
Her sweet transitions seem to be
A kind of pictured melody；
And not a set contour。
'AE。 M。'
A strange expression had overspread Cytherea's countenance。 It
rapidly increased to the most death…like anguish。 She flung down
the paper； seized Owen's hand tremblingly； and covered her face。
'Cytherea！ What is it； for Heaven's sake？'
'OwensupposeO； you don't know what I think。'
'What？'
'〃THE LIGHT OF AZURE EYES；〃' she repeated with ashy lips。
'Well； 〃the light of azure eyes〃？' he said； astounded at her manner。
'Mrs。 Morris said in her letter to me that her eyes are BLACK！'
'H'm。 Mrs。 Morris must have made a mistakenothing likelier。'
'She didn't。'
'They might be either in this photograph；' said Owen；