. . It bore many labels. One, with "Southampton"
upon it, was apparently pretty recent . . . and another with
"Waterloo."
He turned the case over while the boys eyed him, keeping their
distance. His brain worked more and more clearly. . . Foe had
returned to England, then, to pick up the trail. But how had he
struck it? . . . There was only one way. . . . He had, of course,
been obliged to send letters home from time to time--letters to his
firm, to his bankers for money--instructions to pay his housekeeper--
possibly a score of letters in all. Foe must have obtained
possession of one and spotted the postmark on the Peruvian stamp.
. . .
Of a sudden he realised his cowardice; and flushed, with shame and
manhood together, there in the pathway. . . . This thing was no
longer a duel. Three were in it now, and the third was Santa. . . .
The old scare had caught him, surprised him, and he had run from
recollected habit. . . . It had been base. . . . Why, of course,
Santa made all the difference! He must go back to protect Santa.
At the thought of her he felt a second flush of shame sweep up in
him, quite different from the first and quite horrible.
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