"Madge, something troubles you," her lover said, anxiously.
"Yes, Jack. I—I received an anonymous letter at noon. Mrs. Sedgewick forwarded it to me. Oh, it is shameful to speak of it—"
"An anonymous letter? There is nothing more vile or cowardly! Did it concern me?"
"Yes."
"And spoke badly of me?"
"It didn't say anything good."
"I wish I had the scoundrel by the throat! You have no idea who sent it?"
"None, dear. It was in a strange, scrawly hand, and was postmarked Paddington."
"It is a mystery I am powerless to explain," Jack said dismally. "To the best of my knowledge I have not an enemy in the world. I can recall no one who would wish to do me an ill turn. And the writer lied foully if he gave me a bad character, Madge. Where is the letter?"
"I destroyed it at once. I hated to see it, to touch it."