Manchurian Books

"Of course," he said, "if you are telling the truth--and it
sounds fishy, I must say--it's hardly a Police matter, is it?
It's rather one for diplomasy. But can you prove what you say?"
"My word should be suficient," I replied stiffly. "How do
I know that _you_ belong here?"
"Well, you don't, as a matter of fact. Suppose you take my
word for that, and I agree to beleive what you say about the
wrong apartment, Even then it's rather unusual. I find a pale
and determined looking young lady going through my desk in a
business-like manner. She says she has come for a Letter. Now
the question is, is there a Letter? If so, what Letter?"
"It is a love letter," I said.
"Don't blush over such a confession," he said. "If it is
true, be proud of it. Love is a wonderful thing. Never be
ashamed of being in love, my child."
"I am not in love," I cried with bitter furey.
"Ah! Then it is not _your_ letter!"
"I wrote it."
"But to simulate a passion that does not exist--that is
sackrilege. It is----"
"Oh, stop talking," I cried, in a hunted tone. "I can't
bear it.


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