“Will be able to carry it through. Why didn’t I send them to her, you say? Well, it seemed to me dangerous. From what I could make out, she seemed to have a jealous husband. Suppose he opened the letter by mistake. Where would the poor dame be then? Or she might be dead⁠—the letters looked as though they’d been written some time. As I figured it out, the only thing was for someone to take them to England and put them into her own hands.”

Anthony threw away his cigarette, and coming across to his friend clapped him affectionately on the back.

“You’re a real knight-errant, Jimmy,” he said. “And the backwoods of Canada should be proud of you. I shan’t do the job half as prettily as you would.”

“You’ll take it on then?”

“Of course.”

McGrath rose, and going across to a drawer took out a bundle of letters and threw them on the table.