"The only people in the neighbourhood who have heard the true story are, so far as I know, Sir Richard Wayne and"--he hesitated--"and his daughter, who is now Mrs. Cheniston."

"I see." Fraser Carey's eyes had noted the change of tone as Anstice spoke the last name; and his quick humanism was stirred by the pitiful idea which crossed his mind. "Sir Richard's daughter knew the story? And--may we conclude that her husband would naturally share her knowledge?"

"Naturally--yes." He emphasized the word. "You see I omitted to tell you that the girl I--the girl who was with me in the hut was engaged to this very man, Bruce Cheniston, whom Miss Wayne eventually married."

"Was she, indeed?" Carey was really surprised. "What a strange coincidence that you should meet again--as I suppose you met--in Littlefield."

"We met, yes," said Anstice, his eyes growing fierce at the remembrance of their meeting. "But--well, as you will readily see, none of those persons is in the least likely to have anything to do with the letters we are discussing. I daresay Mrs. Carstairs may possibly know the story--if her brother saw fit to hand it on to her. But so far as I know they are the only people who do know it, and naturally we can write all of them off the list of suspects at once."

"Quite so. I wonder"--Carey rose as he spoke--"I wonder if anyone else has received one of those shameful letters? Of course should the matter go no further there is not much real harm done, though of course----"

"Whether there are other letters or not the matter is going to be thoroughly investigated," said Anstice resolutely; and Carey experienced a disturbing and quite unusual pang of regret for his own vanished youth and strength as he heard the ring of determination in the other man's voice, noted the firm set of his lips and the proud and dauntless gesture with which he threw back his head, his black eyes sparkling.

"Well, I shall follow the course of events with deep interest," he said, striving as he spoke to fight down that unworthy sensation of envy of another's superior equipment for the battle of life. "Of course I will keep my own counsel; and in a few days at latest you should know whether your enemy intends to strike again."

"It is very good of you to take an interest in the horrible affair." Anstice was really grateful. "Must you go? You haven't given me much of your company to-night."




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