The worthy woman snorted. “He has not, sir—not yet, leastwise. And if so be that he does”—her eyes travelled up and down the back of the hapless Denny, who was quite unnecessarily pulling books off shelves and putting them back again—“if so be that he does,” she continued grimly, “him and me will have words—as I’ve told him already this morning.” She stalked from the room, after staring pointedly at the letters in Drummond’s hand, and the two men looked at one another.
“It’s that there reference to crime, sir, that’s torn it,” said Denny in a hoarse whisper.
“Thinks I’m going to lead you astray, does she, James?”
Hugh helped himself to bacon. “My dear fellow, she can think what she likes so long as she continues to grill bacon like this. Your wife is a treasure, James—a pearl amongst women; and you can tell her so with my love.” He was opening the first envelope, and suddenly he looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. “Just to set her mind at rest,” he remarked gravely, “you might tell her that, as far as I can see at present, I shall only undertake murder in exceptional cases.”
He propped the letter up against the toast-rack and commenced his breakfast. “Don’t go, James.” With a slight frown he was studying the typewritten sheet. “I’m certain to want your advice before long. Though not over this one.... It does not appeal to me—not at all. To assist Messrs. Jones & Jones, whose business is to advance money on note of hand alone, to obtain fresh clients, is a form of amusement which leaves me cold. The waste-paper basket, please, James. Tear the effusion up and we will pass on to the next.”
He looked at the mauve envelope doubtfully, and examined the postmark. “Where is Pudlington, James? and one might almost ask—why is Pudlington? No town has any right to such an offensive name.” He glanced through the letter and shook his head. “Tush! tush! And the wife of the bank manager too—the bank manager of Pudlington, James! Can you conceive of anything so dreadful? But I’m afraid Mrs. Bank Manager is a puss—a distinct puss. It’s when they get on the soul-mate stunt that the furniture begins to fly.”
Drummond tore up the letter and dropped the pieces into the basket beside him. Then he turned to his servant and handed him the remainder of the envelopes.
“Go through them, James, while I assault the kidneys, and pick two or three out for me. I see that you will have to become my secretary. No man could tackle that little bunch alone.”
“Do you want me to open them, sir?” asked Denny doubtfully.
“You’ve hit it, James—hit it in one. Classify them for me in groups. Criminal; sporting; amatory—that means of or pertaining to love; stupid and merely boring; and as a last resort, miscellaneous.” He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. “I feel that as a first venture in our new career—ours, I said, James—love appeals to me irresistibly. Find me a damsel in distress; a beautiful girl, helpless in the clutches of knaves. Let me feel that I can fly to her succour, clad in my new grey suiting.”