John Munting to Paul Harrison
Dear Harrison,
A damnably awkward thing has happened. Lathom turned up here last night. The girl showed him straight into my study and I was caught without hope of escape.
He looked nervous and irritable, and came straight to the point.
“Look here,” he said, “has this fellow Harrison been round to see you?” I hesitated, and he went on at once, “Can’t you say yes or no? What’s the good of lying about it?”
“Yes,” I said, “he came round.”
“What did he want?”
I said you were naturally anxious to have all available details about your father’s death.
“Yes, that’s all very well,” he cut in, angrily. “What have you been saying to him? Have you been discussing my private affairs?”
“I don’t think,” I answered cautiously, “I told him anything that he didn’t know already.”
“Have you been spreading scandals about Mrs. Harrison and me? Come on, out with it!”
“Sit down,” I said, “it’s no good shouting at me like that.”