set my mind at ease also by writing the note.”
“You oblige me to grant your request, Sir Percival, when I would much rather refuse it.”
With those words Miss Halcombe rose from her place and went to the writing-table. Sir Percival thanked her, handed her a pen, and then walked away towards the fireplace. Miss Fairlie’s little Italian greyhound was lying on the rug. He held out his hand, and called to the dog good-humouredly.
“Come, Nina,” he said, “we remember each other, don’t we?”
The
do the best we can together.”
I had the door in my hand to open it for her—but I stopped, on a sudden, to ask an important question before we set forth.
“One of the paragraphs of the anonymous letter,” I said, “contains some sentences of minute personal description. Sir Percival Glyde’s name is