and his eyes grew hard as he replied:

"You mean----"

"I mean that once again that unfortunate girl at Cherry Orchard might be
suspected of having recourse to this most degrading, most underhand form
of crime. And for her sake the matter must not be allowed to rest here."

"Sir Richard"--Anstice came a step nearer his host, and Sir Richard
heard, with satisfaction, the ring of steel in his voice--"you are
right. I did not see, at first, how peculiarly fatal this coincidence
might be. I mean that should these letters, as you suggest, be
circulated through the district, the old scandal would be revived. And
though no sane person could ever believe Mrs. Carstairs guilty of such a
vile action, I suppose there _are_ a good many lunatics about who would
put these atrocious things down to her."

"Well, you know what people are," said Sir Richard deprecatingly, "and
naturally a woman who has once been convicted, by whatever unfair means,
of the same offence, is liable to be looked on with suspicion. And I
shouldn't like"--for a second Sir Richard, who loved Chloe Carstairs as
though she had been his daughter, faltered, and cleared his throat
rather huskily--"I shouldn't like that poor, pretty creature over yonder
to suffer any further indignity."

"Of course not!" Anstice's eyes flashed, and he pulled himself together
resolutely. "And if I can help it, she shan't suffer! Just look here,
Sir Richard, the first thing to do is to find out if anyone else has
been, as you say, victimized."

"Yes." Sir Richard spoke rather dubiously. "And it will be rather hard
to find out that, I fear. You see, naturally a decent man wouldn't
spread the fact abroad; and we can hardly go about making open
inquiries."

"I suppose not." For a second Anstice was nonplussed, then his face
cleared. "But after all, if anyone--one of my patients, for instance,
has received one of these charming letters, don't you think I shall find
it out? You see, although the average 'decent man,' as you call him,
holds firmly to the theory that the place for an anonymous communication
is the fire, I'm afraid nine out of ten people can't help wondering,
even while they burn it, how much truth there was in the accusation!"

"Just so--but even then----"

"Well, something of that rather uncomfortable wonder, not to say
suspicion, is pretty sure to show itself in the manner of the man who's
read the letter. Seriously, Sir Richard, if anyone beside yourself has
rec