Book 2 Chapter 1

"I say, I'm afraid you're ill, after all!" Anstice was genuinely concerned; and Sir Richard's strained features relaxed into a smile.

"No, I'm perfectly well. Only, as I told you, I have been upset this morning; and--well, I'll explain and you will see there is something to worry about."

Without more ado he walked over to his substantial roll-top desk, and unlocking a drawer took from thence an envelope which he handled gingerly as though it were unpleasing to him.

From the envelope he drew a sheet of thin paper; and Anstice, watching him closely, felt still more mystified by his distasteful expression.

For a moment Sir Richard hesitated, still holding the sheet by the tips of his fingers. Then, as though he had taken a sudden resolve, he turned to Anstice abruptly.

"Look here, Anstice, this abominable thing reached me this morning. Now of course I don't need you to tell me that the proper place for it is the fire, and if it had not been for one circumstance connected with it, it would have been in the flames by now. But as things are"--he broke off suddenly and held the thin sheet out to the other man--"well, read it, and then tell me what you think is the best course to pursue."

With a premonition of evil for which he could not account, Anstice took the paper from Sir Richard and, turning to the window so that the pale autumn sunlight might fall upon the letter, he read the few lines scrawled in the middle of the sheet.