"At last," she cried, rising off her knees, and smoothing it out; "I
knew he had not destroyed it."
"Pretty nearly, however," said Calton, as his eye glanced rapidly over
it; "it's almost useless as it is. There's no name to it."
He took it over to the window, and spread it out upon the table. It was
dirty, and half burnt, but still it was a clue. Here is a FAC-SIMILE of
the letter:--
"There is not much to be gained from that, I'm afraid," said Madge,
sadly. "It shows that he had an appointment--but where?"
Calton did not answer, but, leaning his head on his hands, stared hard
at the paper. At last he jumped up with a cry--
"I have it," he said, in an excited tone. "Look at that paper; see how
creamy and white it is, and above all, look at the printing in the
corner--'OT VILLA, TOORAK.'"
"Then he went down to Toorak?"
"In an hour, and back again--hardly!"
"Then it was not written from Toorak?"
"No, it was written in one of the Melbourne back slums."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the girl who brought it," said Calton, quickly. "A
disreputable woman, one far more likely to come from the back slums
than from Toorak. As to the paper, three months ago there was a
robbery at Toorak, and this is some of the paper that was stolen by the
thieves."
Madge said nothing, but her sparkling eyes and the nervous trembling of
her hands showed her excitement.
"I will see a detective this evening," said Calton, exultingly, "find
out where this letter came from, and who wrote it.
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