"I want to know all about what 'Re said to Dr. Merridew in her letter.... Well, what's the matter?"
Amazement on Irene's fact had caused this. "And that man calls himself an F.R.C.S.!" said she.
Adrian, uninformed, naturally asked why not. Gwen supplied a clue for guessing. "He said he couldn't read your handwriting, and gave me your letter to make out."
"What nonsense! I write perfectly plainly."
"So I told him. But he maintained he had hardly been able to make out a word of it. Of course I read it. Your caution to him not to tell me was a little obscure, but otherwise I found it easy enough. Anyhow, I read all about it. And now I know."
"Well—I'll never trust a man with letters after his name again. Of course he was pretending."
"But what for?"
"Because he wanted to tell you, and didn't want to get in a scrape for betraying my confidence."
Adrian struck in. Might he ask what the rumpus was about? Why Sir Merridew, and why letters?
Irene supplied the explanation. "I wrote to him about you and Septimius Severus.... Don't you recollect? And I cautioned him particularly not to tell Gwen.... Why not? Why—of course not! It was sheer, inexcusable dishonesty, and I shall tell him so next time I see him."