“But by whom?” queried Miss Snodley.
Mrs. Marjoy’s aggressive voice claimed the responsibility.
“By us, of course,” she said.
For a moment they stared at one another in silence.
“How?” asked Miss Snodley, tentatively.
“By letter,” said the doctor’s wife.
“Anonymous, of course,” interposed Mrs. Mince, with hurried circumspection.
They debated the question briefly, and continued to satisfy the triple conscience as to the morality of the proceeding. Mrs. Marjoy possessed herself of her writing-case, and, after much tentative suggestion and voluminous wastage of paper, produced the following edifying document:
“As sincere and disinterested friends, we think Mrs. Strong ought to be warned of the danger that is threatening her domestic happiness. We do not desire to swear to facts or to make mere poisonous insinuations. As Christian women we only wish to put a sister on her guard. We hear that her husband has been acting unwisely. There is a serpent in the grass near Rilchester, at a place known as Burnt House. This letter is despatched by its writers through a deep sense of Christian duty and moral obligation. It had better be burned when it has been read.”
“There,” said Mrs. Marjoy, straightening herself in her chair, with an expression of pride, “that ought to fire the furnace. I have disguised my writing by scrawling it backhand. I am going into Rilchester to-morrow, and I can post it there. The postmark will help to keep its origin secret.”