“I beg your pardon,” interrupted Penfield, “but I received no communication. A communication was no doubt dispatched by Mr. Purcell, but it never reached me.”
“I am referring to a letter which did reach you; a letter with certain enclosures, apparently put into the wrong envelope.”
“And which,” said Penfield, “is consequently no concern of mine, or, if you will pardon my saying so, of yours.”
“Of that,” said Thorndyke, “you are doubtless a better judge than I am, since you have read the letter and I have not. But I am instructed to investigate the disappearance of Mr. Purcell, and as this letter appears to be connected with this disappearance, it naturally becomes an object of interest to me.”
“Why do you assume that it is connected with the disappearance?” Penfield demanded.
“Because of the striking coincidence of the time of its arrival and the time of the disappearance,” replied Thorndyke.
“That seems a very insufficient reason,” said Penfield.
“Not, I think,” rejoined Thorndyke, “if taken in conjunction with the terms of your own letter to Mrs. Purcell. But, do I understand you to say that there was no connection?”
“I did not say that. What I say is that I have inadvertently seen a letter which was not addressed to me and which I was not intended to see. You will agree with me that it would be entirely inadmissible for me to divulge or discuss its contents.”
“I am not sure that I do agree with you, seeing that the writer of the letter is the husband of our client and the consignee is a person unknown to us both. But you will naturally act on your own convictions. Would it be admissible for you to indicate the nature of the enclosures?”