"What's the matter with this letter-box? It won't open."
"That's so that letters can't be shot into the empty hall. He nailed it up on purpose before he went. I found him at it."
"And didn't it strike you as an extraordinary thing to do?" Uvo was standing upright now. "Of course it did, or you'd have mentioned it to Coysh and me the other day."
It was no use denying the fact.
"What's happening to their letters?" he went on, as though I could know.
"I expect they're being re-directed."
"To the wife?"
"I suppose so."
And my voice sank with my heart, and I felt ashamed, and repeated myself aggressively.
"Exactly!" There was no supposing about Uvo. "The wife at some mysterious address in the country—poor soul!"