The little old man had lighted his candle, and, grinning back over his shoulder, passed through a narrow cut in the wall that could hardly be called a door and planted his light on a table that stood in the center of a small room, or closet, not more than five feet square.

Then he coolly pulled Captain Plum's old letter from his pocket and smoothed it out in the dim light.
"Be seated, Captain Plum; right over there--opposite me.

So!" He continued for a moment to smooth out the creases in the letter and then proceeded to read it with as much assurance as though its owner were a thousand miles away instead of within arm's reach of him.

Captain Plum was dumfounded.

He felt the hot blood rushing to his face and his first impulse was to recover the crumpled paper and demand something more than an explanation.