"I'm delighted to think that Charlie will escape a very disagreeable
affair. It's fortunate he wasn't here to receive that letter."
"And I'm glad, too. When he returns I'll tell him how you came here,
and what you said. What name shall I give him?"
"Williams--Harry Williams," I answered. "He will know."
Then as I walked round to the window I examined the room quickly, but to
my disappointment saw that there were no photographs. He might, I
thought, keep the portraits of some of his friends upon the mantelshelf,
as so many men do. Was this Denton one of the conspirators, I wondered?
His absence without an address for four months caused me to suspect
that he was.
Just as I had given her my assumed name, somebody knocked at the door,
and she went to open it.
Next instant a thought flashed across to me. Should I take that letter?
It was a theft--that I recognised, yet was it not in the interests of
justice? By that communication I might be able to establish the dead
man's identity.
There was not a second to lose. I decided at once. I heard the woman
open the door and speak to someone, then swift as thought I opened the
cupboard, glanced at the packet of letters, and with quickly-beating
heart took the one which bore the Blandford post-mark.
In a moment it was in my pocket. I re-closed the cupboard, and sprang
to the opposite side of the room just as the good woman re-entered.
Then, with profuse thanks and leaving kind messages to the man of whom I
spoke so familiarly as "Charlie," I took my leave and hurried along the
broad road into Salford, where I jumped upon a tram going to the
Exchange.
I was in the train alone, in a third-class compartment, travelling north
to Carlisle, before I dared to break open the letter.
When I did so I found within a scribbled note in cipher written on the
paper of the Bear Hotel, at Devizes. After some difficulty, with the
aid of the key which the writer had evidently used in penning it, I
deciphered it as follows:--
"Dear Denton,--I saw you in the smoking-room of the Midland at Bradford,
but for reasons which you know, I could not speak. I went out, and on
my return you had gone. I searched, but could not find you. I wanted
to tell you my opinion about Ellice and his friend. They are not
playing a straight game. I know their intentions. They mean to give us
away if they can. Sybil fears me, and will pay. I pretend to know a
lot. Meet me in Chichester at the Dolphin next Sunday. I shall put up
there, because I intend that she shall see me. Come and help me, for I
shall have a good thing on, in which you can share. She can always
raise money from her sister or her mother, so don't fail to keep the
appointment. Ellice has already touched a good deal of the Scarcliffs'
money from young Jack, and I now mean myself to have a bit. She'll do
anything to avoid scandal. It's a soft thing--so come.--Yours,--
"R.W."
The dead man was, as I had suspected, one of the gang, and he was a
blackmailer. He had compelled her to meet him and had made demands
which she had resisted. Yes--the letter was the letter of a barefaced
scoundrel.