She produced a letter from the bosom of her gown.
“I received this last night,” she said.
He glanced it rapidly through. The form of it was well-known to him.
“Dear Madam,
“A letter addressed to you, and in the handwriting of a certain Major Charles Peyton, has come into our hands within the last few hours. It is dated from the Army and Navy Club, and its postmark is June 1st. The contents are probably well-known to you.
“It is our wish to return same into your hands at once, but we may say that it was handed to us in trust by a gentleman who is indebted to us for a considerable sum of money and he spoke of this document, which we did not inspect at the time, as being a probable form of security.
“Perhaps your ladyship can suggest some means by which we might be able to hand over the letter to you without breaking faith with our friend.
“Sincerely yours,
“Jacobson & Co.—Agents.
“17, Charing Cross Road.”
“A distinct attempt at blackmail!” Saton exclaimed, indignantly.