The letter was marked "immediate," and the handwriting was that of James Myers.
With a murmured apology, the detective opened it, and read—
"My Dear Ferrars,—During the day you will no doubt receive a call from Miss Glidden. I cannot dictate your course, but I write this to say that no friend of Brierly's has a better right to the truth—all of it—nor a stronger will and greater power to aid. Of her ability to keep a secret you can judge when you meet her.
"Yours,
"James Myers."
When he had read this letter Ferrars silently proffered it to his visitor, and in silence she accepted and read it.
"I was strongly inclined to accede to your request, after, first, asking one question," he said, when she gave the letter back, still without speaking. "And now, having read this, I am quite ready to tell you what I can."
"And the question?"
"I will ask it, but have no right to insist upon the answer. Have you any motive, beyond the natural desire to understand the case, in coming to me?"
She leaned slightly toward him and kept her earnest eyes steadily upon his face as she replied, "I cannot believe that you credit me with coming here, on such an errand, simply because I wish to know. I do wish to know as much as possible, but let me first tell you, plainly, my motives and why I have assumed such a right or privilege. To begin, I am told that Robert Brierly will not be able to think or act for himself for some time to come."
"That, unhappily, is true."