Warren Courtly took it carelessly, but no sooner did he see the handwriting than he hastily turned to look at the signature, and when he saw "Felix Hoffman" the letter fell upon the table and he sank back into his chair, his face white and drawn.
Irene was surprised and alarmed at the effect it produced, and said—
"What is the matter, Warren? Is it the letter causes you anxiety? Do you know the man?"
He made no answer, but took the letter and read it, wondering how it came about that Felix Hoffman should have discovered who he was and have the audacity to write to his wife. Janet must have confided in him, that was the only solution he arrived at, and he vowed she should suffer for her betrayal. These brief minutes, when his wife's eyes were upon him, noting every change and movement, were the worst he had ever spent in his life.
"Do you know the man?" she asked, again.
"Yes, I know him."
"Who is he?"
"A racecourse sharper, a scoundrel, an unprincipled blackguard," said Warren, savagely.
"Then how is it you know him?" she asked.
"We meet many undesirable people on racecourses; he is one of the most undesirable."