"I at first intended, and perhaps I should have been wise in carrying out my first intention, to call in the police--but very urgent business was requiring my presence in Lisbon. Also I remembered that I had no one who could, in England, vouch for my respectability, though you will be further able to judge of the truth of my story by going to the Mayfair Hotel, where I have sometimes stayed, and by making inquiries of the agent from whom I took the office in Duke House. "My relations with Mr. Pavely were slight, but entirely friendly, even cordial, and what has happened is a very terrible misfortune for me. "I came to England in order to raise a loan for a big and important business enterprise. Some French banking friends introduced me to Mr. Pavely, and I soon entered on good relations with him. Our business was on the point of completion, and in a sense mutually agreeable to us, when what I may style our fatal interview took place. "Yours with respectful sympathy, "FERNANDO APRA." Laura sat down on the sofa. For the first time in her life she felt faint and giddy, and during the few moments that followed the reading of the extraordinary letter she still held in her hand, it was, oddly enough, her peculiar physical state which most absorbed her astonished and anguished mind. Then her brain gradually cleared. Godfrey--dead? The thought was horrible--horrible! It made her feel like a murderess. She remembered, with a sensation of terrible self-rebuke and shame, the feeling of almost hatred she had so often allowed herself to feel for her husband. And then, before she had had time to gather her mind together sufficiently to face the immediate problem as to how she was to deal with this sinister letter, the door again opened, and Katty Winslow came into the room. Katty looked ill as well as worried. There were dark circles round her eyes. "Laura! Whatever is the matter? Have you heard anything? Have you news of Godfrey?" "I have just had this. Oh, Katty, prepare for bad news!" But Katty hardly heard the words. She snatched the tough, thin sheet of paper out of Laura's hand, and going across to the window she began reading, her back turned to Laura and the room. For what seemed a long time she said nothing. Then, at last, she moved slowly round. "Well," she said stonily, "what are you going to do about it? If I were you, Laura, I shouldn't let that stupid Pewsbury inspector see this letter. I should go straight up to London with it." She glanced at the clock. "We've time to take the 11.20 train--if you hurry!" She felt as if she would like to shake Laura--Laura, standing helplessly there, looking at her, mute anguish--yes, real anguish, in her deep, luminous blue eyes.