He didn’t sign his name. Folding the letter he slipped it into an envelope and addressed it to “William Gibson, Esq., Broadwood Academy, Greenburg, Ct.” Then, putting it into his pocket, he slipped quietly down the stairs and across, through the rain, to the letterbox in front of Oxford. Although there was no one in sight Cotton took no risks of being seen, and the way in which he extracted the letter from his pocket and slid it through the slot was a marvel of dexterity. Then, as a sudden burst of cheering reached him from upstairs, he passed into the hall and sought the meeting, just as, in spite of his declaration to the contrary, he had intended to do all along.