Could she in three days' time learn the end of that strange mystery, know the final fate of the man who had first addressed her so unconventionally in a public print?
Why, at the end of three days he might still be in Scotland Yard, a prisoner! She could not leave if that were true--she simply could not.
Almost she was on the point of telling her father the story of the whole affair, confident that she could soothe his anger and enlist his aid.
She decided to wait until the next morning; and, if no letter came then-- But on Tuesday morning a letter did come and the beginning of it brought pleasant news.

The beginning--yes.

But the end! This was the letter: DEAR ANXIOUS LADY: Is it too much for me to assume that you have been just that, knowing as you did that I was locked up for the murder of a captain in the Indian Army, with the evidence all against me and hope a very still small voice indeed?
Well, dear lady, be anxious no longer.

I have just lived through the most astounding day of all the astounding days that have been my portion since last Thursday.

And now, in the dusk, I sit again in my rooms, a free man, and write to you in what peace and quiet I can command after the startling adventure through which I have recently passed.
Suspicion no longer points to me; constables no longer eye me; Scotland Yard is not even slightly interested in me.