By the way, here is a letter for you from
Raffold. It must have got among mine by mistake. Mrs. Burrowes's
handwriting, I imagine."
She was right. It was directed by Froggy, but Priscilla paled suddenly
as she took it, realising that it contained an answer to her own urgent
note.
Alone in her own room she opened it. The message was even briefer than
hers had been: "Sweetheart,--At 11 A.M., on Thursday, under the
dome of St. Paul's Cathedral.--I am thine, J. C."
Priscilla stood for long seconds with the note in her hand. It had
reached her too late. The appointment had been for the day before. She
turned to the envelope, and saw that it must have been lying among her
stepmother's correspondence for two days. Doubtless he had waited for
her at the trysting-place, and waited in vain.
Only one thing remained to be done, and that was to telegraph to Froggy
for Carfax's address. But Froggy's answer, when it came, was only
another disappointment:
"Address not known. Did you not receive letter I forwarded?"
Reluctantly Priscilla realised that there was nothing for it but
patience. Carfax would almost certainly write again through Froggy.
That he had not her address she knew, for Froggy was under a solemn vow
to reveal nothing, but she would not believe that he would regard her
failure to keep tryst as a deliberate effort to snub him, though the
fear that he might do so haunted and grew upon her all through the day.
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