"Not a shadow of a doubt of it," he answered. "In fact, it was so obvious that I destroyed them."
"Destroyed my letters!"
"Precisely! I chose that course rather than allow them to fall into your hands."
"You admit, then," I said, "that I had a right to them."
"Indubitably. But they do not exist."
"You read them, without doubt. You can acquaint me with their contents."
"Some day," he said, "I probably shall. But not yet. Believe me or not, as you choose, but there are certain positions in which ignorance is the only possible safe state. You are in such a position at the present moment."
"Are you," I asked, "my moral guardian?"
"I have at least," he said, "incurred certain responsibilities on your behalf. You could no longer hold your present post and be in communication with the sender of those letters."
My anger died away despite myself. The man's strength and honesty of purpose were things which I could not bring myself to doubt. I continued my breakfast in silence.