“This is all talk,” I said. “Show me the letters, and then we can get
down to brass tacks.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Cutts. “And supposin’ my young gentleman should come
’ome and look for them letters, as it might be to-night, wot a peck of
trouble I might be in. Do right and shame the devil is my motter, but
motters won’t feed a fambly o’ children when a ’ard-workin’ woman loses
’er job—now, will they, sir?”
I thought the time had come to lend an air of business to the bargain. I
drew a five-pound note from my pocket, and let it crackle pleasantly
between my fingers. Her eyelids twitched, but she said nothing.
“Before we go any further,” I said, “I must look at the letters and see
that they are actually from the person you mention, and that they are of
genuine interest to me. In the meanwhile, since I have put you to some
trouble—”