“I’ve reason to believe that your old friendship has been the cause of some talk—some scandal. I don’t like it. I won’t have it, and that’s sufficient. I insist on you avoiding her in future.”
Nigel stared blankly.
“I can only agree of course. I’ll do just as you tell me. But I think, as we’ve known each other so long, that it would be only fair for you to tell me what is your reason for thinking this.”
Nigel walked up and down the room, turned suddenly and said: “What has put this idea into your head?”
Percy hesitated a moment.
“I’ll tell you if you like. But, mind, I want no explanations. I needn’t say,” he glanced at the closed photograph, “that I could have no doubt of any kind. … But I have a right to choose my friends and my wife’s also.”
“She doesn’t object?”
Percy frowned and looked him straight in the face.
“I undertake to say she will not object. We’ll make this conversation as short as we can. You’ve asked me my reason and I’ll give it you. I’ve had a series of extraordinary anonymous letters concerning you.”
Nigel stared, horrified.