“But why didn’t you tell a fellow ...!”
“Why should I—until now? You mustn’t forget that you sat in this room not twenty-four hours ago and listened to me retail what I admit sounded like the damnedest farrago of lies that was ever invented since the world began; and because you were a good fellow and a gentleman, you stood for it—gave me the benefit of the doubt. And at that I hadn’t told you half. Why? Why, because I felt I had put sufficient strain upon your credulity for one session at least.”
“Yes—I know,” Staff agreed, bewildered; “but—but Miss Searle—your daughter—!”
“That’s a hard one for you to swallow——what? I don’t blame you. But it’s true. And that’s why I’m all worked up—half crazed by my knowledge that that infamous blackguard has managed to deceive her and make her believe he is me—myself—her father.”
“But what makes you think that?”
“Oh, I’ve his word for it. Read!”
Iff whipped an envelope from his pocket and flipped it over to Staff. “He knew, of course, where I get my letters when in town, and took a chance of that catching me there and poisoning the sunlight for me.”
Staff turned the envelope over in his hands, remarking the name, address, postmark and special delivery stamp. “Mailed at Hartford, Connecticut, at nine this morning,” he commented.
“Read it,” insisted Iff irritably.
Staff withdrew the enclosure: a single sheet of note-paper with a few words scrawled on one side.