“Why? Because everybody wants to know what it was about. You say you’ve destroyed it?”
“Tore it into taypaws, I ashaw you.”
“More’s the pity. It’s well-known that a letter was sent and delivered to your servant. Of course every one supposes that it came to your hands. We’re bound to give some explanation.”
“Twue—twue. What daw you suggest, Mr Lucas?”
“Why, the best way will be to tell the truth about it. You got the letter too late to make answer to it. It’s already known why, so that, so far as you are concerned, the thing can’t be any worse. It lets Maynard out of the scrape—that’s all.”
“Yaw think we’d better make a clean bweast of it?”
“I’m sure of it. We must.”
“Well, Mr Lucas, I shall agwee to anything yaw may think pwopaw. I am so much indebted to yaw.”
“My dear sir,” rejoined Lucas, “it’s no longer a question of what’s proper. It is a necessity that this communication passed between Mr Maynard and yourself should be explained. I am free, I suppose, to give the explanation?”
“Oh, pawfectly free. Of cawse—of cawse.”