He hung up the receiver.
“Garlett’s thoroughly rattled!” he exclaimed. “D’you see any objection to his coming up with us to-night and going to the Home Office to-morrow morning?”
The other hesitated.
“Frankly, I shouldn’t advise that. If you, as Mrs. Garlett’s medical attendant, can convince my chiefs that she died a natural death, the whole matter will be dropped.”
“I understand that, and I’ll make him follow your advice,” said the doctor. “But what I can’t make out—what I would give a good deal to know—I suppose you know and won’t tell me?—is what started this damnable inquiry?”
The eyes of the two men crossed.
“There are such things as anonymous letters,” observed Mr. Kentworthy dryly.
“Anonymous letters?”
Surprised though he felt, he told himself that he had been a fool not to think of that solution of the mystery.
“I didn’t know,” he muttered, “that poor Garlett had an enemy in the world. But I suppose you can’t run any business without making some bad blood.”