to-morrow.”

Martin was a little annoyed at being kept late, as he had promised to take Lucy on the river. But there was no help for it. He closed the shop, then went to the workrooms in Foster Lane, where the parcel would be made up.

Only one workman was there at his bench, giving the final polish to a goblet of silver-gilt. He appeared to Martin to dawdle over his job, and it was nearly dark before the parcel was ready.

Martin set off with it, going through St. Paul’s Churchyard and down Ludgate Hill. Then he turned to the left, towards the maze of lanes and alleys that constituted the district of Whitefriars. It was at a house in one of these lanes that he had to deliver the letter.

He walked quickly, for it was an unsavoury neighbourhood. Many of the houses were old and tumble-down; many of the people who lived in them were bad characters; and Martin, knowing that the parcel he carried was valuable, wished that he could have taken it by the more direct and open route along Fleet Street.

It was already so dark that he had some difficulty in finding the house at which the letter was to be delivered. In those days houses were not numbered; some were distinguished by signs that hung over the doorways, others had no distinguishing marks at all.

The address on Martin’s letter ran: “To Mr. Mumford, at his house over against the Golden Fleece Tavern.”

After making some inquiries, Martin discovered the house where Mr. Mumford lived, and rapped on the door. A window opened, and a hoarse voice asked, “Who’s there?”

“A letter from Mr. Slocum,” Martin replied.

A few moments afterwards the door was opened, and a rough-looking man, holding a candle, gave a hard look at Martin as he took the letter.

“All right; no answer,” he said, without breaking the seal.

Martin hurried away, wondering how the man knew there was no answer before he had read the letter.

He had got about half-way to his destination in Middle Temple Lane when two men rushed suddenly out of a narrow doorway and almost knocked him down. As he staggered, he felt a tug at the parcel he carried under his arm.

Tightening his grip upon it, he drew himself away, but next moment a sharp blow 

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