Robin swung round from the window.
“Fear? Fear of what?”
The boy cast a frightened glance over his shoulder rather as if he fancied he might be overheard.
“Of those letters,” he replied. “I am sure it was that. I watched him and ... and I know. Every time he got one of those letters in the bluish envelopes, these curious fits of gloom came over him. Robin ...”
“What, Bruce?”
“I think he was being blackmailed!”
The barrister nodded thoughtfully.
“Don’t you agree?”
The boy awaited his answer eagerly.
“Something very like that,” replied the other.