“It is evident that he had an enemy, and a very bitter one,” answered her lover. “The sentences are deliberate, but they appear to have been written by a man who was in a white heat of passion when he penned them.”
“Smeaton ought to see that letter, without loss of time, dear,” she said.
“I quite agree. His trained intelligence may get more out of it than we can. I will make an appointment with him for to-morrow morning, and I will be here when he comes.”
Smeaton arrived next morning, hoping that at last he might discover a substantial clue. He read the brief note carefully and deliberately.
“Is it important, do you think?” inquired Sheila eagerly.
“In my opinion it is of very considerable importance. Miss Monkton,” he replied. “I think it will help us.”
“It certainly proves that he had a secret enemy,” interjected Wingate, “and one who would hesitate at nothing that would secure him revenge.”
“I quite agree, sir. The letter breathes the most intense hatred in every line. The motive of that hatred we have got to discover.”
Then the detective, turning to Sheila, said: “Now, Miss Monkton, there is a little information that I am sure you will be able to give us. I am not so well posted in your father’s biography as I ought to be. But, before he became a prominent politician, I understand that he was a barrister with an extensive and lucrative practice.”
“That is so,” corroborated Sheila. “He did not often talk about those times, but I have always understood that he made quite a big income at the Bar.”