He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. "I thought you were asleep. ‘Jacques! This—this bête he attacks me, and you stand there and you do nothing. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls.
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