Anxiety told upon him more hardly than his seventy yews.
"Good-evening, Sir Roger!" cried Mr.Walraven, advancing eagerly.

"Any news of Mollie ?" He expected to hear "No," but the baronet said "Yes." He was deeply agitated, and held forth, in a hand that shook, a note to Carl Walraven.
"I received that an hour ago, through the post-office.

For Heaven's sake, read, and tell me what you think of it!" He dropped exhausted into a chair.

Carl Walraven tore open the brief epistle, and devoured its contents: "SIR ROGER TRAJENNA,--Give up your search for Mollie Dane.

It is useless; a waste of time and money.