“How do you know this is another poison-pen letter?” Bertha asked.
“Well, it looks like the other one, the way the type looked.”
Bertha examined the typewriting with a magnifying glass, nodded her head in a gesture of slow, deliberate affirmation. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I wanted to see you about.”
“Any idea what’s in it?”
“No.”
“Could you simply ditch it? Throw it in the fire?”
“No. My mother-in-law’s seen it. If Mabel comes back, Mrs. Goldring will make it a point to be on hand for the opening of the mail. She seemed to be particularly interested in this letter.”
“And if she can’t find it?”
“Then, of course, I’ll be accused of taking it, and that, coupled with the other stuff — even if Mabel should come back — well, you can see what it would do.”