“You take it as a huge joke!” she said in dissatisfaction, disengaging herself slowly from his embrace.
“I do. Because I can’t see why you should warn me. Who has put such thoughts into your head? Surely I know how to take care of myself?” he exclaimed.
“Perhaps you do. But that a grave danger threatens you, Jack, I happen to know,” was her serious reply.
“How do you know?” he asked quickly, facing her. He had, all along, seen that, for some unaccountable reason, she was hesitating to tell him the truth.
“Well,” she said slowly, “if—if I tell you the truth, Jack dear, you won’t laugh at me, will you?” she asked at last.
“Of course not, my darling. I know full well that you love me, and, as a natural consequence, you are perhaps a little too apprehensive.”
“I have cause to be,” she said in a low voice, and, taking from the breast of her low-cut gown a crumpled letter, she handed it to him, saying: “A week ago I received this! Read it!”
He took it and, opening it, found it to be an ill-scribbled note, upon a sheet of common note-paper such as one would buy in a penny packet, envelopes included.
The note, which was anonymous, and bore the postmark of Willesden, commenced with the words “Dear Miss,” and ran as follows:
“Your lover, Sainsbury, has been warned to keep his nose out of other people’s affairs, and as he continues to inquire about what does not concern him his activity is to be cut short. Tell him that, as he has disregarded the advice given him by letter two months ago, his fate is now sealed. The arm of Germany’s vengeance is long, and reaches far. So beware—both of you!”