The Ghost by Arnold Bennet Chapter 8 Page 10

“You cannot deceive me, Mr. Foster. It is something. I entreat you to read to me that letter. Does it not occur to you that I have the right to demand this from you? Why should he beat about the bush? You know, and I know that you know, that there is a mystery in this dreadful death. Be frank with me, my friend. I have suffered much these last days.”

We looked at each other silently, I with the letter in my hand. Why, indeed, should I treat her as a child, this woman with the compelling eyes, the firm, commanding forehead? Why should I pursue the silly game of pretence?

“I will read it,” I said. “There is, certainly, a mystery in connection with Alresca’s death, and we may be on the eve of solving it.”

The letter was dated concurrently with Alresca’s