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“But what will Miss Vulliamy say?”

“That,” said Virgil sweetly, “remains to be seen. I may tell you I wrote the letter under duress. She made me do it. Of course, if she likes to buy my literature back, she’s at liberty to do so. She’s plenty of money—or can have. Besides, it’ld be a pretty compliment. So please do nothing for me. And just acknowledge these instructions, will you? Before you lunch. I’ld like her to know the worst this afternoon.”

“Very good,” said Maple, laughing. “I’ll dictate a letter at once.”

Private.

Dear Mr. Pardoner,

I have carefully considered the conversation, which we had upon the telephone this morning, and I have come to the conclusion that, in the circumstances, your wisest course is, as you suggest, to take no further action.

Since the Miss June Townshend, to whom you addressed your letter, has never in fact existed outside your imagination, and there is, therefore, no one with whom we can confront the woman, into whose hands that letter has fallen, the only possible move we could make would be to offer to buy the document back.