“I think,” he said, “that you will listen now to a little plan which has just occurred to me, will you not?”
She looked away from him with a shudder.
“What is it?” she asked hoarsely.
CHAPTER XXVI
MR. BLATHERWICK AS ST. ANTHONY
“I am afraid,” Harcutt said, “that either the letter was a hoax, or the writer has thought better of the matter. It is half an hour past the time, and poor Mr. Blatherwick is still alone.”
Wolfenden glanced towards the distant table where his father’s secretary was already finishing his modest meal.
“Poor old Blatherwick!” he remarked; “I know he’s awfully relieved. He’s too nervous for this sort of thing; I believe he would have lost his head altogether if his mysterious correspondent had turned up.”