He handed it to her when he went home for lunch.
“You have some enemy in Colon, Sue,” he said; “or it is my enemy. I get this letter to-day, an’ it is no good person write it. I wonder if it is a woman?”
Susan took the letter and glanced at the handwriting. She knew it at once. Although Tom had tried to disguise his handwriting, and believed he had succeeded, his endeavour had been at best a clumsy one; she gave no sign, however, that she knew the author of the anonymous communication; she did not wish Mackenzie to seek out Tom and demand an explanation, which might be very inconvenient to her. She read the letter slowly. She realized that the attempt to make it appear that she was continually meeting Samuel had defeated its own end. She felt that only a fool like Tom could have blundered so badly. He hadn’t even mentioned the fire, so eager was he to conceal his identity. Her heart was beating quickly, though she tried to appear unconcerned. She strove to control her voice when she spoke.
“It’s a wonder the person who writes this letter didn’t say I was two weeks wid Jones,” she said, as she handed the letter back to her husband. “That’s the way that worthless people tell lies on other people! They want to rob me of me character because them is envious of me!”
“Well, it is what you have to expect,” said Mackenzie philosophically. “I know you only go twice to Colon to see you’ family, an’ Jones have his work to do during the day, so he couldn’t be with you.”
He said this more for the purpose of setting her mind at ease than because he was any longer interested in the subject of the letter; but Susan was inwardly too anxious to let the matter rest there. None of her relatives, not even her aunt, would betray her; but suppose some other person should follow Tom’s example? A bold idea suggested itself to her. “I wonder if it is Jones himself write it?” she remarked. Mackenzie was surprised at the suggestion.
“Why y’u think so?” he asked. “Jones wouldn’t tell a lie on himself?”
“I don’t know about that. P’rhaps him think you couldn’t say anything to him, but might want to quarrel wid me. Men are bad, an’ Jones might want to get me into trouble because I wouldn’t take much notice of him the other night when I saw him at the fire, as I told you.”
Mackenzie looked at the letter he still held in his hand. He shook his head; the handwriting was not like Jones’s.
“He may have begged one of his friend to write it,” urged Susan.