“Ah! and w’ich is the one about the pore gentleman as was done in in a play?”
“ ’Ere you are, Mother.”
She slid the letters across to meet my hand. I released the note; she released the letters and the exchange was affected.
These were the letters numbered 43 and 44 , and dated August 2nd and October 5th respectively, as above. If you will glance back to them, you will see that they offered valuable evidence.
I at once recognised them for genuine documents in my stepmother’s handwriting.
“How many letters have you?”
“Well, there’s more than I ’ave ’ere. But them as I ’old in my ’and, w’ich makes eight, countin’ them two, is the ones as ’ud interest anybody as wanted to know w’y a gentleman might die sudden.”
“Are there any that say definitely how he died or what he died of?”
“No,” said Mrs. Cutts, “I wouldn’t deceive a gentleman like you, sir. Tell the truth, likewise fair and square. Them eight letters, sir, is wot they calls excitements to murder, and would be so considered by any party as might ’appen to receive them. But as for saying in so many words ‘weedkiller’ or ‘prussic acid,’ I will not say as you will find them words in black and white.”
“That, of course, detracts from their value,” I said carelessly. “These letters are evidence of sad immorality, no doubt, Mrs. Cutts, but it’s one thing to wish a person dead and another to kill him.”
“There ain’t sech a great difference,” said Mrs. Cutts, a little shaken. “It says in the Bible—‘ ’E that ’ateth ’is brother is a murderer,’ now, don’t it,