“What was the reply?”
“Violet was clever,” the man remarked, with a slow smile. “She saw at once that this was a case where something might be done. She asked for three days, and for a letter from the man. She said that it was a case in which a sight of his handwriting, and a close study of it, would help them to give an absolutely truthful answer.”
“She agreed?” Saton asked.
The other nodded, and produced a letter from his pocket.
“She handed one over at once,” he said. “It isn’t particularly compromising, perhaps, but it’s full of the usual sort of rot. She’s coming for it on Tuesday.”
Saton smiled as he thrust it into his pocketbook.
“I will put this into Dorrington’s hands at once,” he said. “This has been very well managed, Huntley. I will have a liqueur, and you shall have some more beer.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Mr. Huntley assented cheerfully. “It’s thirsty weather.”
They summoned a waiter, and Saton lit a cigarette.