She knew that, because she had seen it in his desk--the desk once belonging to her father, a sloping thing with a green-baize top.

Sometimes he kept it locked, but very often he did not; and more than once, when he had asked her to get him something from the desk, not out of meanness, but chiefly because her moral standard had not a multitude of delicate punctilios, she had examined the envelope curiously.

The envelope bore a woman's handwriting, and the name on it was not that of the man who owned the coat--and the letter.

The name on the envelope was Shiel Crozier, but the name of the man who owned the coat was J.G.Kerry--James Gathorne Kerry, so he said.
Kitty Tynan had certainly enough imagination to make her cherish a mystery.

She wondered greatly what it all meant.