Page:Fantastics and other Fancies.djvu/179

 "Got something for you this time," said the United States mail-carrier, riding in weeks later with his bronzed face made lurid by the sanguine glow of sunset. He did not say "Cap" this time; neither did he smile. The envelope was larger than usual. The handwriting was the handwriting of a man. It contained only these words:—

—, Hortense is dead. It happened very suddenly on the night of the 24th. Come home at once.

S—