“Of course, he’s always rather irritable and short-tempered. That one expects. It’s all in the day’s work. But to fly into such an absolute fury⁠—over nothing at all. He really looked as though he could have murdered me! And, as I say, over nothing at all!”

“Tell me about it?” I said, keenly interested.

“As you know, I open all Mr. Ryland’s letters. Some I hand on to Mr. Appleby, others I deal with myself, but I do all the preliminary sorting. Now there are certain letters that come, written on blue paper, and with a tiny 4 marked on the corner⁠—I beg your pardon, did you speak?”

I had been unable to repress a stifled exclamation, but I hurriedly shook my head, and begged her to continue.