“That’s right.”
“So this letter from Helen Framley dropped on you like a one-ton bomb making a direct hit?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do?”
“I took the letter and went to see Philip.”
“Where?”
“At his office. We had a date for that night.”
“But you didn’t see Philip?”
“No. He’d been called out on a deal that was very important, and he left a note telling me he was awfully sorry but he just had to ask me to forget about the evening, that he’d been trying to reach me on the telephone, and couldn’t. He said he’d give me a ring around eleven o’clock and see if I could have lunch with him the next day.”
“Arthur Whitewell was in the office?” I asked.