"Yes, sir." Mr. Tallmadge turned his ashen countenance round. "There is a letter."
Ethan stared at him and ran forward.
"What's the matter? Are you ill?"
Mr. Tallmadge warded him off with a shaking hand.
"You scoundrel!"
Ethan drew himself up arrow-straight, and his warm brown eyes grew cold.
"I knew there was some devilry afoot. I never dreamed it was as bad as this."
The old man flung the open letter down on the nearest chair.
Ethan colored, catching sight of the hand.
"So you've been reading my letters?"