“Are you Mrs. John H——?” asked her questioner again. She had turned partly aside and was looking across the apartment and out through a window. He spoke once more. “Is this your name?”
“What, sir?”
He smiled cynically.
“Please don’t do that again, madam.”
She blushed down into the collar of her dress.
“That is my name, sir.”
The man put the missive to his nose, snuffed it softly, and looked amused, yet displeased.
“Mrs. H——, did you notice just a faint smell of—garlic—about this—?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, I have no less than three or four others with the very same odor.” He smiled on. “And so, no doubt, we are both of the same private opinion that the bearer of this letter was—who, Mrs. H——?”