THE WRITER OF THE LETTER DATED NOVEMBER 25TH ADVISES THE HEAD COMMISSIONER OF POLICE TO ASK MR. HENRY GARLETT TO RENDER A FULL ACCOUNT OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES SURROUNDING HIS WIFE’S DEATH.

“I think,” said Dr. Maclean hesitatingly, “that I know who wrote two of those letters.”

“You do?” Mr. Kentworthy leaped to his feet.

“I suspect,” said the doctor, “that the writer is a certain Mary Prince, the daughter, I am sorry to say, of the medical man from whom I bought my practice.”

“The lady who lives at the Thatched Cottage?”

Mr. Kentworthy felt sadly disappointed. He was convinced the doctor was on a wrong track.

“I feel sure it is she,” Dr. Maclean spoke with growing energy and conviction. “Miss Prince is a most malicious woman. She has never liked Harry Garlett, and I know she has been genuinely shocked at his thought of remarriage. She actually guessed how things were between him and my poor little niece before they knew it themselves.”

“Believe me, you are on the wrong track, Dr. Maclean. I had a talk with this very lady two days ago, and though I don’t think she has a pleasant disposition, if she is really the writer of these letters then she entirely took me in.”

“Did she know why you were here?” asked Dr. Maclean.

“Good heavens, no! I hope you won’t be shocked when I confess that I told her I was distantly related, through her mother, to the late Mrs. Garlett. On the strength of this statement she asked me to tea, and we had a long talk. She is a shrewd, clever woman, though I admit a dangerous gossip. By the way, there is one person who, I gather, was actually with Mrs. Garlett when she died. I mean a certain 80Miss Agatha Cheale, who is a friend of this Miss Prince. How about her, Dr. Maclean?”

80

Unconsciously the doctor stiffened.

“I don’t know that there is anything to say about Miss Cheale. She was distantly related to the Garletts. Mrs. Garlett’s death was a real misfortune for her, for although the poor lady left her a thousand pounds, she was actually receiving a salary of three hundred pounds a year.”

“When was she here last?” asked Mr. Kentworthy suddenly.

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