“Don’t you think it was meant for me to see?” asked Pledge.
Heathcote was puzzled. He had never thought so yet, and wished Dick was at hand to be consulted.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“It says, doesn’t it, that you are to be on your guard against me, and that I shall be sure and do you harm, and that the less you see of me the better, eh?”
“Yes; have you seen the letter?”
“No, or I shouldn’t ask to see it.—How would you like to have letters written about you like that?”
“Not at all. Do you know who wrote it?”
“No. No one knows. And you believe it, of course?”
“No, I don’t,” said Heathcote, making up his mind at a bound on a question which had been distracting him for a week.
Pledge seemed neither pleased nor surprised by this avowal.