Poor old David had no friends,--and probably the few papers he has left are only for some relative who would not do anything for him while he was alive, but who, all the same, has to be told that he is dead." "Maybe so!" and Mrs.Twitt nodded her head profoundly--"But that cinder worn't made in the fire for nowt! Such a shape as 'twas don't grow out of the flames twice in twenty year!" And, with the conviction of the village prophetess she assumed to be, she was not to be shaken from the idea that strange discoveries were pending respecting "old David." Mary herself could not quite get rid of a vague misgiving and anxiety, which culminated at last in her determination to show Angus Reay the packet left in her charge, in order that he might see to whom it was addressed.
"For that can do no harm," she thought--"I feel that he really ought to know that I have to go all the way to London." Angus, however, on reading the superscription, was fully as perplexed as she was.

He was familiar with the street near Chancery Lane where the mysterious "Mr.Bulteel" lived, but the name of Bulteel as a resident in that street was altogether unknown to him.

Presently a bright idea struck him.
"I have it!" he said.

"Look here, Mary, didn't David say he used to be employed in office-work ?" "Yes," she answered,--"He had to give up his situation, so I understand, on account of old age." "Then that makes it clear," Angus declared.

"This Mr.Bulteel is probably a man who worked with him in the same office--perhaps the only link he had with his past life.