The letter was without superscription or date and was signed merely with the words, “A Well-Wisher.”  The innuendo of the thing was apparent.

“Of course,” she remarked, as Garrick finished reading, and before he could speak, “I know there is something back of it.  Some person is trying to injure Mortimer.  Still—–­”

She did not finish the sentence.  It was evident that the “well-wisher” need not have said more in order to sow the seeds of doubt.

As I watched her narrowly, I fancied also that from her tone the newspapers had not been wholly wrong in mentioning their names together recently.

“I hadn’t intended to say anything more than to explain how I got the letter,” she went on wistfully.  “I thought that perhaps you might be interested in it.”

She paused and studied the toe of her dainty boot.  “And, of course,” she murmured, “I know that Mr. Warrington isn’t dependent for his income on the rent that comes in from such places.  But—­ but I wish just the same that it wasn’t true.  I tried to call him up about the letter, but he wasn’t at the office of the Warrington estate, and no one seemed to know just where he was.”

She kept her eyes downcast as though afraid to betray just what she felt.

“You will leave this with me?” asked Garrick, still scrutinizing the letter.

“Certainly,” she replied.  “That is what I brought it for.  I thought it was only fair that he should know about it.”

Garrick regarded her keenly for a moment.  “I am sure, Miss Winslow,” he said, “that Mr. Warrington will thank you for your frankness.  More than that, I feel sure that you need have no cause to worry about the insinuations of this letter.  Don’t judge harshly until you have heard his side.  There’s a good deal of graft and vice talk flying around loose these days.  Miss Winslow, you may depend on me to dig the truth out and not deceive you.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, as she rose to go; then, in a burst of confidence, added, “Of course, after all, I don’t care so much about it myself—­but, you know, my aunt—­is so dreadfully prim and proper that she couldn’t forgive a thing like this.  She’d never let Mr. Warrington call on me again.”

Violet stopped and bit her lip.  She had evidently not intended to say as much as that.  But having once said it, she did not seem to wish to recall the words, either.

“There, now,” she smiled, “don’t you even hint to him that that was one of the reasons I called.”

Garrick had risen and was standing beside her, looking down earnestly into her upturned face.

“I think I understand, Miss Winslow,” he said in a low voice, rapidly.  “I cannot tell you all—­yet.  But I can promise you that even if all were told—­the truth, I mean—­your faith in Warrington would be justified.”  He leaned over.  “Trust me,” he said simply.

As she placed her small hand in Garrick’s, she looked up into his face, and with suppressed emotion, answered, “Thank you—­I—­I will.”