Secret Letters Read Online Free

recovered, sir,” I responded coolly. “I cannot imagine why anyone would reject you, truly I cannot. Your talent for deducing a lady’s name from her handbag is quite astonishing; I know that I am still all aflutter. I’d best run home before I collapse again.”
    “Don’t you want to hear what I did after that case?” he inquired with a wounded air.
    I was still smarting from his jibe about my fainting spell, and so I answered him more brutally than I intended. “No, not particularly. I really don’t see why I should care.”
    “Because I want to offer my help. Mr. Holmes was not the only private investigator in London, you know.”
    “No, but he was the best. And now you want me to bring my problem to you—a sixteen-year-old boy?”
    “Seventeen. And I wasn’t recommending myself, though perhaps one day I will be. I was referring to the gentleman for whom I work.”
    “And who is that?”
    “Mr. Neville Porter. He is an investigator as well as a private agent. Until recently, he handled Mr. Holmes’s ‘overflow’ cases, but it seems that now we may have more business than we bargained for. Oh, and by the way, don’t tell Porter that you went to Sherlock Holmes first. He hates to hear that. May I give you his card?”
    I took the slip of cardboard and dropped it into my handbag without a glance.
    “I will have to ask my cousin. It is her case, after all, not mine.”
    He gave a short, triumphant laugh, as if I had just confirmed his guess. “Ah, and yet you came here this morning, without consulting her. I find that very curious.”
    “Mr. Cartwright, I already told you that I came to London with my cousin. Why do you assume that my visit this morning was a secret? Why would I deceive her? Isn’t it more likely that she sent me here?”
    “No, it isn’t more likely, Miss Dora. Not unless your cousin is blind, that is.” He flicked his index finger at the nape of my collar. “The two open buttons on the back of your dress force me to conclude that you made your preparations today before daybreak, and that you were anxious, alone, and in a hurry. As to why you decided to travel across the city without a chaperone—why that I have yet to discover. Perhaps I will, in time. If you give me a chance.” There was a demure insolence in his voice and a playful gleam in his sober eyes that begged for a reaction, that taunted me to answer him. A proper lady would have frozen this impudent fellow immediately and stalked away. But I was not angry, or even irritated. It was exciting to talk to a man who did not treat me like a porcelain flower, who appeared to relish an intelligent retort as a special treat, and who seemed able to predict my thoughts before I myself was conscious of them. I decided that I would beat him at his little game—and then I would walk away.
    “Thank you for your kind offer,” I began in a bored and patient tone. “You clearly have good intentions and you seem to be an intelligent boy, though perhaps lacking in humility. Unfortunately, I must decline your offer.” The expression on his face did not change at all, but his shoulders began to droop a little. “I see that you have some skill, but I’ll wager that you miss as much as you observe. Can you tell me where am I staying, for example? No? Well, this smear of clay across my boot heel is unique to the area on Hanover Street where they are laying the electric line. Can you guess if I am familiar with London? No answer? Well, it should be obvious that I am not, for if I was, I would have known that walking was far more efficient at this hour than riding in a cab. But I clearly did not walk, for the hem of my skirt is clean. Honestly, I am not impressed, Mr. Cartwright, and I truly doubt that you can help me. So, in the end, I believe that I am better off alone,” I concluded shortly.
    It was the final sentence that scored the hit, for I saw his pale cheeks flush red, and he drew back as if I had slapped him. His lips tensed