Percy laughed.
“Oh yes, I know—the copy I gave Bertha. Have you decided to let her have it back on mature consideration?”
“Oh, I say, Percy! Come off the roof, there’s a good chap,” said the boy, blushing a little.
“I think I shall have to take a holiday from chambers to-morrow,” Percy said. “Shall we take him out to lunch, Bertha?”
“By all means; or, at any rate, you take him, Percy.”
“Are you engaged in the morning?” he asked her very quickly.
“I ought to look in at my dressmaker’s for a minute,” she said, feeling angry with Nigel that he had made her promise to conceal even a few minutes of her day.
No more was said on the subject.
Presently, Percy went upstairs to his room and turned the key. He then took out of a drawer and placed in front of him, in their order, three rather curious-looking letters, written in typewriting on ordinary plain white notepaper. The first two, both of which began “Dear Mr. Kellynch,” were four pages long, and gave some information in somewhat mysterious terms. The third one had no beginning, and merely mentioned an hour and a place where, he was told, he would find his wife on the following morning, if he wished to do so, in the company of an individual with the initials N. H. The letter further advised him to go there and find her and take steps to put a stop to the proceedings which had been watched for some time by somebody who signed the letter “your true and reliable friend.”