Both the men, genuinely taken aback, stared at her in silence; and with a faint smile she proceeded quietly.
"Well, I have heard of those letters, anyway. In fact"—she paused dramatically before making her coup—"I've received one myself!"
"You have?" Anstice's voice was full of dismay.
"Yes. And I gather, from a short conversation I had with Mr. Carey last evening, that there have been several more of the things flying about this week."
"Well"—Sir Richard looked rather helplessly at Anstice—"in that case there is no need to make a mystery of it. Yes, Chloe, we did call here to-night to talk over those abominable letters, and to see if you can possibly help us to follow up a rather extraordinary clue."
"A clue!" Chloe's eyes suddenly blazed.
"Yes. That is to say—possible clue." Sir Richard hedged a little. "But Anstice can tell you the story better than I can."
"Will you, please, tell me, Dr. Anstice?" She turned to him, grave again now; and he complied at once, giving her a full account of his visit to Clive, and relating at length the expert's opinion on the letters.
She heard him out in silence; her almond-shaped eyes on his face; and Anstice omitted nothing of the happenings of that day in town, save his unexpected meeting with her husband in Piccadilly.
When he had finished Chloe sat quite still for a moment, saying nothing; and neither of the men dreamed of hurrying her.