It was from the firm in which Bryan Llyn of Virginia had been interested, for the letter had been sent to their care, and Dyck had given them his address in London on this very chance.

It reached Dyck's hands on the day after the last penny had been paid out for their lodgings, and they faced the streets, penniless, foodless--one was going to say friendless.

The handwriting was that of Sheila Llyn.
At a street corner, by a chemist's shop where a red light burned, Dyck opened and read the letter.

This is what Sheila had written to him.
MY DEAR FRIEND: The time is near (I understand by a late letter to my mother from an official) when you will be freed from prison and will face the world again.

I have not written you since your trial, but I have never forgotten and never shall.