She held the letter up. Mona nodded almost eagerly now, for come of a subtle, social world far away, she still was no match for the subtlety of the wilds—or was it the cunning the wild things know?
Kitty left the room, but in a moment afterwards returned with the letter open. “The kettle on the hob is the friend of the family,” she said gaily. “Here it is all ready for what there is to do. You go and keep watch for Mr. Crozier,” she added to the Young Doctor. “He won’t be gone long, I should think, and we don’t want him bursting in on us before I’ve got that letter safe back into his desk. If he comes, you keep him busy for a moment. When we’re quite ready I’ll come to the front door, and then you will know it is all right.”
“I’m to go while you make up your prescription—all right!” said the Young Doctor, and with a wave of the hand he left the room.
Instantly Kitty brought a lead pencil and paper. “Now sit down and write to him, Mrs. Crozier,” she said briskly. “Use discretion; don’t gush; slap his face a little for breaking his pledge, and afterwards tell him that you did at the Derby what you had abused him for doing. Then explain to him about this four thousand pounds—twenty thousand dollars—my, what a lot of money, and all got in one day! Tell him that it was all won by his own cash. It’s as easy as can be, and it will be a certainty now.”
So saying, she lit a match. “You—hold this wicked old catfish letter into the flame, please, Mrs. Crozier, and keep praying all the time, and please remember that ‘our little hands were never made to tear each other’s eyes.’”
Mona’s small fingers were trembling as she held the fateful letter into the flame, and then in silence both watched it burn to a cinder. A faint, hopeful smile was on Mona’s face now.
“What isn’t never was to those that never knew,” said Kitty briskly, and pushed a chair up to the table. “Now sit down and write, please.”
Mona sat down. Taking up a sheet of notepaper she looked at it dubiously.
“Oh, what a fool I am!” said Kitty, understanding the look. “And that’s what every criminal does—he forgets something. I forgot the notepaper. Of course you can’t use that notepaper. Of course not. He’d know it in a minute. Besides, the sheet we burned had an engraved address on it. I never thought of that—good gracious!”
“Wait—wait,” said Mona, her face lighting. “I may have some sheets in my writing-case. It’s only a chance, but there were some loose sheets in it when I left home. I’ll go and see.”