In a rather different voice Oliver went on: "Show me the letter again. I want to see if there's a date to it."
"It arrived exactly three weeks ago to-day," said Pavely slowly, "and it was posted in Pewsbury."
Light broke in on Tropenell. This, then, was why Godfrey had taken to coming home at such odd hours, and why he had telephoned several times from the Bank, sending messages to Laura, and, on at least one occasion, a message to Tropenell himself!
He set his lips tightly together, and a flood of bitter wrath welled up from his heart.
"Then in my place you would do nothing?" asked Godfrey uncertainly.
More and more he was disappointed in the other's attitude. He had thought Oliver would suggest something which might be useful, or at any rate laugh the matter off.
But Oliver only looked grim—grim and angry.
"I don't see that you can do anything. It isn't the sort of thing about which you would care to go to the local police, and even if you knew who wrote that infamous scrawl I don't see how you could take action. We can't have Laura's name dragged into this kind of business."
Then he asked in a lower voice, "Have you said anything to her?"
The other shook his head. "I've no intention of saying anything to Laura. It would distress and disgust her very much."