Presently the vague uncertainty that hovered before his mind resolved itself into action, and his groping forefinger pressed a button hidden beneath the carved edge of the library table.

In response to the pressure, a liveried butler entered the room.
"Did you mail the letter I gave you ?" inquired Whitmore.
"Yes, sir." "When ?" "Immediately you gave it to me." "That was about four hours ago ?" "Yes, sir." "That is all." The butler effaced himself from the room as noiselessly as he had entered, and again Whitmore gave himself up to the alarming predicament in which he found himself.
His reflections centered about the letter which the butler had mailed.
It was not sent in a moment of impulsiveness.

The information which it conveyed was not offered in spite, or in anger, or in envy.

It was the deliberate act of a man habituated to clear thinking and correct action.
Viewed with full knowledge of all the surrounding circumstances, that letter must be regarded as the noble outpouring of a chivalrous love, honest, worthy, unselfish.

Regarded without the illumination of the complex conditions which called it forth, the letter was pregnant with possibility of mischief.
It was addressed to Mrs.George Collins.