Dulcie wrote chiefly about herself--which was all I wanted to
hear--about her father and "Aunt Hannah," while two pages she devoted to
her little brother Dick, of whom she was inordinately fond.

Dick, she said, had shown the utmost pluck and endurance throughout his
painful convalescence after his rough-and-tumble with the burglars. She
told me how he had from the first sat up in bed with his "honourable
wounds" upon him, bandaged and swathed, joking and making light of the
occurrence now, as perhaps only the best breed of English schoolboy
knows how. One thing still puzzled both little Dick and herself, and for
that matter the whole family, she said--who could the woman be to whom
the thieves had alluded? No word, added Dulcie, had as yet been
forthcoming as to the whereabouts of any of the valuables stolen on that
memorable day, either family jewels or plate, and the detectives at
Scotland Yard acknowledged that so far matters were at a deadlock.

Further on in her newsy letter Dulcie made mention of the fascinating
widow staying at the Rook Hotel in Newbury, and of her wish to know her
better. She added incidentally that Mrs. Stapleton had been away since
the day after the meet at Holt Manor, and that no one knew where she was
staying. She hoped she would soon be back, she said, as she wished so
much to renew her acquaintance, and to strengthen it. Dulcie then spoke
of her Aunt Hannah, who had been particularly amusing and crochety of
late, but added that she was really such a "dear" at heart that people
all loved her when they came to know her well. "My dear," she wrote,
"Aunt Hannah has surpassed herself lately. You know what vigorous likes
and dislikes she takes, all of a sudden? Well, now Auntie has conceived
an inordinate aversion for poor Mrs. Stapleton, and seems inclined not
only to give her the cold shoulder, but to hound her down by saying the