He broke off suddenly, for Sir Richard had raised his hand almost entreatingly.
"Anstice, don't speak of giving up your practice here--not at this juncture, anyway. You see this vile story may spread; and to quit Littlefield now would look almost like"--he hesitated--"like cowardice."
For a second Anstice stared at him, a flash of anger on his brow. Then, as though dismayed by the effect of his words, Sir Richard spoke again.
"Besides, there is another aspect of the matter which has evidently not yet struck you. It is very natural for you to look on this letter as a loathsome, but quite unimportant, act of spite, on the part of some secret enemy; and I understand your desire to assume that it does not matter in the least. But"--his eyes sought the younger man's face anxiously--"there is another person in this neighbourhood who might be affected by a fresh flood of anonymous communications. You know to whom I refer?"
Suddenly Anstice saw, with a most unwelcome clarity of vision, what Sir Richard intended to convey; and his eyes grew hard as he replied: "You mean----"
"I mean that once again that unfortunate girl at Cherry Orchard might be suspected of having recourse to this most degrading, most underhand form of crime. And for her sake the matter must not be allowed to rest here."
"Sir Richard"--Anstice came a step nearer his host, and Sir Richard heard, with satisfaction, the ring of steel in his voice--"you are right. I did not see, at first, how peculiarly fatal this coincidence might be. I mean that should these letters, as you suggest, be circulated through the district, the old scandal would be revived. And though no sane person could ever believe Mrs. Carstairs guilty of such a vile action, I suppose there are a good many lunatics about who would put these atrocious things down to her."
"Well, you know what people are," said Sir Richard deprecatingly, "and naturally a woman who has once been convicted, by whatever unfair means, of the same offence, is liable to be looked on with suspicion. And I shouldn't like"--for a second Sir Richard, who loved Chloe Carstairs as though she had been his daughter, faltered, and cleared his throat rather huskily--"I shouldn't like that poor, pretty creature over yonder to suffer any further indignity."
"Of course not!" Anstice's eyes flashed, and he pulled himself together resolutely. "And if I can help it, she shan't suffer! Just look here, Sir Richard, the first thing to do is to find out if anyone else has been, as you say, victimized."