‘Lastly, if length of Days be thy Portion, make it not thy Expectation. Reckon not upon long Life: think every day the last, and live always beyond thy account. He that so often surviveth his Expectation lives many Lives, and will scare complain of the shortness of his days. Time past is gone like a Shadow; make time to come present. Approximate thy latter times by present apprehensions of them: be like a neighbour unto the Grave, and think there is but little to come. And since there is something of us that will still live on, join both lives together, and live in one but for the other.’

Jonathan read it through twice. He had a quick hand and eye, and found no difficulty, while affecting to put the paper back inside the book, in secreting it from Farmer Daventry and, later, in transferring it to his pocket-book. He thought it might interest his aunt.

He was disappointed, therefore, when she declared, after closely comparing it with the typescript of one of the anonymous letters, that it had been done on another machine.

‘Are you sure?’ he demanded. Mrs Bradley handed him her magnifying glass.

‘But, all the same, this is a clue of the first importance,’ she assured him, as he handed back the glass and she picked up the piece of paper. ‘If we could only discover who typed it and which of the inmates of the bungalow had taken the trouble to keep it, we should be able, I think, to eliminate one of our suspects. What was the title of the book in which it was found?’

‘It was a kid’s nature study book. What not to pick and eat on country walks. Not exactly, one would imagine, the particular cup of tea of either of the Fullaloves.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Deborah. ‘I knew a sailor once who used to take Little Meg’s Children to sea with him every voyage, and read it at least twice before he came home again. He said it used to make him cry just as well as if he had gone to the pictures.’

‘It’s frightfully odd, that, about the pictures,’ said Jonathan. ‘Lots of fellows have confessed to me that they cry at them. I suppose there’s a psychological explanation. Most of the chaps are quite tough, in the normal way, too.’

‘It’s the darkness, and the feeling that you can release emotion without anybody knowing,’ said Deborah. ‘Most people say they feel all the better for a good cry. Personally, if I do cry at the pictures, I come out feeling completely chewed up and with a frantic headache.’