“She knows nothing about it,” continued Percy, “and I attach no importance to them, except, as I say, they show that your acquaintance must have been misconstrued, and I won’t have a shadow … on her.”
“This is rather hard on me, Kellynch. However, I have the satisfaction of knowing my conscience is absolutely clear, and of course, I’ll do just as you wish. Have you any objection to showing me the letters?”
After a moment’s pause, Percy said:
“No. I don’t know that I have. I’ve got them here. I meant to shove them in the fire, but I’ll let you read them first, if you like.”
He went to a drawer, unlocked it, gave Nigel the letters, and watched him while he read them.
The moment Nigel glanced at them he knew they were written by Mary. He remembered by the dates when she had had the typewriter; he remembered, even, seeing some of the white notepaper. He read them all. Then he looked up and said:
“Kellynch, it’s good of you to show these to me. I’m sorry to say I know who wrote them. The earlier ones telling of the appointments are all perfectly true, but entirely misrepresented. They can all be explained.”
“I understand that,” said Percy. “Of course the suggestion and the impression the writer tries to give are absolutely false.”
“Quite so. May I burn the letters now?”