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"Yes, madam, between Melpomene and Terpsichore."

My thanks were few and awkward, for there still hung to the missive a basting thread, and it was as warm as a nestling bird. I bent low--everybody was emotional in those days--kissed the fragrant thing, thrust it into my bosom, and blushed worse than Camille.

The ladies smiled; I glowered. "Take those horses by their heads and turn them to me!"

"Smith, I want them to get it. I want them to rob you of this." He waggled the envelope. "I want this to fall into the hands of the enemy; as it will if those people rob you of it."

"Who don't belong to Ferry's scouts at all," I still more sweetly added.

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