You see there is no address, but the postmark is
Russian. She is evidently in Russia."
"In Finland," I said, examining the stamp and making out the post town
to be Abo. "But have you been to London and executed this strange
commission?"
"No. We are going up next week. I intend to call upon this person named
Woodroffe."
I made no remark. He was, I knew, abroad, but I was glad at having
obtained two very important clues: first, the address of the mysterious
yachtsman, Woodroffe, alias Hornby, and, secondly, ascertaining that the
young girl I sought was somewhere in the vicinity of the town of Abo,
the Finnish port on the Baltic.
"Poor Elma, you see, speaks in her letter of some secret, Mr. Gregg," my
companion said. "She says she wishes this Mr. Woodroffe, whoever he is,
to know that she has kept her promise and has not divulged it. This only
bears out what I have all along suspected."
"What are your suspicions?"
"Well, from her deep, thoughtful manner, and from certain remarks she at
times made to me, I believe that Elma is in possession of some great and
terrible secret--a secret which her uncle, Baron Oberg, is desirous of
learning.
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