“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, sir? And there’s some as sits on juries ’as the same way of thinkin’.”
“Maybe,” said I, “but all the same, it’s not proof.”
“Very good, sir,” said Mrs. Cutts with dignity. “I wouldn’t contradict a gentleman. You ’and me them letters back, Archie. The gentleman don’t want ’em. Ef Mr. Lathom ’ad any sense ’e’d burn the rubbishin’ stuff, and so I’ll tell ’im, clutterin’ up the place.”
“I don’t say that, Mrs. Cutts,” said I, holding on to the letters. “They are of interest, but not of as much interest as I thought they might be. What value did you think of placing on them?”
“To them as knew ’ow to use ’em”—here Mrs. Cutts appeared to size me up from head to toe—“letters like them might be worth a ’undred pounds apiece.”
“Rubbish,” said I. “I’ll give you fifty pounds for the lot, and that’s more than they’re worth.”
I put the two letters back on the table and flicked at them disdainfully.
“Fifty pound!” shrieked Mrs. Cutts, “fifty pound! And me riskin’ losin’ a job as is worth more than that any day in recommendations and perks, not countin’ my money regular every week!”
She gathered the letters together and began to tie the packet up again.
“Mr. Lathom ’ud give five times that much to know as they wos safe,” she added.
“Not he,” said I. “I doubt if he has as much as a hundred pounds in the world. Whereas, if your son likes to come round with me to my hotel, I can give him cash on the nail.”
“No,” said Mrs. Cutts, “I can’t let them letters go. Supposin’ Mr. Lathom wanted to read ’em and they wasn’t there.”
“That’s your affair,” said I. “If you don’t want to sell them, you can keep them. If I were you I’d put them back quickly where you found them, and say nothing to Mr. Lathom about it. There’s such a thing as blackmail, you know, Mrs. Cutts, and judges are pretty strict about it.”
Mrs. Cutts laughed scornfully.
“Blackmail! Nobody ain’t goin’ to charge theirselves with murder, and don’t you think it.”
“There’s no murder there,” said I. “Good night.”
I rose to go. The woman let me get as far as the door and then came after me.
“See ’ere, sir. You’re a gentleman, and I don’t want to be ’ard on a gentleman wot’s pore father ’as died sudden. Give me two ’undred pound, and I’ll let yer take copies of ’em and Archie shall go with you and bring ’em back.”
“Copies don’t count so well in a court of law as originals,” I said.
“They could be swore to,” said Mrs. Cutts.
“Not at this time of night,” said I.
The youth Archie leaned across and whispered to his mother. She nodded and smiled her unpleasant smile.
“See ’ere, sir, I’ll risk it. Archie shall bring you them letters to your ’otel in the mornin’ and you shall take copies and ’ave them swore to afore a lawyer. I dursn’t let you ’ave them, really I dursn’t, sir. I’m takin’ a sad risk as it is for a respectable woman.”
“Very well,” I replied. “But copies are only worth a hundred pounds to me at the very outside.”
“You’re makin’ a very ’ard bargain, sir.”
“It’s that or nothing,” said I.
“Well, sir, if you say so. I’ll send Archie round at ten o’clock, sir.”
I agreed to this and walked away, glad to get out. I lay awake all night, fancying that Mrs. Cutts would go to Lathom in the interval and make better terms with him.
However, Archie was there with the letters in the morning as agreed, and I took him and them round to a solicitor’s, where typed copies were made and sworn. I also made an affidavit that I recognised the writing of the originals as being in my stepmother’s handwriting. I then paid the lad the agreed hundred pounds in Treasury notes, and dismissed him.
I have entered into all these details in order that there should be no doubt as to the genuineness of these copies, and to make quite clear why I am unable at the moment to forward the originals.
It is true that I could probably have forced Archie into handing the letters over, since he had no right to them. But several reasons urged me to take the other course. First, I had no legal right to them either, and was not clear how my action might be looked upon by the police. Secondly, and this was more important, I could hardly hope that Lathom would not discover their absence, and, if he did, he might take fright and leave the country and thus add great difficulties to my task. It would take some weeks, perhaps, to collect all the evidence I needed, and by the time I was ready to set the law in action, he might hide himself very effectually. Thirdly, I did not wish to alienate Mrs. Cutts. I foresaw that she might be very useful, not only in bringing me fresh letters, if any arrived that threw further light on the business, but also in keeping watch on Lathom’s movements. I suggested to Archie that there might be possibilities of further reward in the future, and cautioned him against alarming Lathom.
It is conceivable, however, that Mrs. Cutts may consider it more advantageous to blackmail Lathom than to assist me. Up to the moment of writing, he is still living in Chelsea, and apparently feels himself safe. But for all I know, Mrs. Cutts may have retained the letters and be blackmailing him on her own account. Or she may have delivered her warning, and he may have destroyed the letters and made
