On this particular day, after opening the trainer's letter asking
for cheque to pay training expenses ((pounds)50), and one from a client,
saying "I got your note, and will pay you when I get the wool
money," he came upon a letter that startled him. It was written in
an old-fashioned, lady's hand, angular and spidery. It ran--
Kuryong Station, Monday.
Dear Mr. Blake,
Miss Grant tells me that she owes her life to your bravery in saving
her from the coach accident. It would give me great pleasure if
you would come and stay here next Saturday, as I suppose you will be
passing down this way to the Court at Ballarook. With best wishes,
Yours truly,
ANNETTE GORDON.
Blake put the letter down and walked about his office for a while
in thought. "Invited to the old station?" he mused. "I must go, of
course, Too good a chance to miss."
"Might have written herself!" he muttered, as he turned the letter
over to see if by chance Miss Grant had written a line anywhere;
then, laying it on one side, he took up carelessly a square
business-like envelope, addressed to him in a scrawly, illiterate
fist. The letter that he took out of it was a strange jewel to
repose in so rude a casket. It also was from Kuryong--from Ellen
Harriott, who had taken the precaution of addressing it in a feigned
hand so that the postmaster and postmistress at Kiley's Crossing,
who handled all station letters, would not know that she was
corresponding with Blake.
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