"Yes!" exclaimed I, speaking to my old servant, for lack of another,"
it must be from Mr. Smith at last. I know no one else in Morganton.
And if he writes he has news!"

"Morganton?" said the old woman, "isn't that the place where the
demons set fire to their mountain?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, sir! I hope you don't mean to go back there!"

"Because you will end by being burned up in that furnace of the Great
Eyrie. And I wouldn't want you buried that way, sir."

"Cheer up, and let us see if it is not better news than that."

The envelope was sealed with red sealing wax, and stamped with a sort
of coat of arms, surmounted with three stars. The paper was thick and
very strong. I broke the envelope and drew out a letter. It was a
single sheet, folded in four, and written on one side only. My first
glance was for the signature.

There was no signature! Nothing but three initials at the end of the
last line!

"The letter is not from the Mayor of Morganton," said I.

"Then from whom?" asked the old servant, doubly curious in her
quality as a woman and as an old gossip.