Will you kindly order it to be forwarded at
the very earliest opportunity?"
"Iris," he thought, "will not come to London any more. She has been
persuaded by her husband to join in the plot. Good heavens! She has
become a swindler--a conspirator---a fraudulent woman! Iris!--it is
incredible--it is horrible! What shall we do?"
He first wrote a letter, to the care of the lawyers. He informed her
that he had made a discovery of the highest importance to herself--he
refrained from anything that might give rise to suspicion; he implored
her to give him an interview anywhere, in any part of the world--alone,
he told her that the consequences of refusal might be fatal--absolutely
fatal--to her future happiness: he conjured her to believe that he was
anxious for nothing but her happiness: that he was still, as always,
her most faithful friend.
Well; he could do no more. He had not the least expectation that his
letter would do any good; he did not even believe that it would reach
Iris. The money was received and paid over to her own account. There
was really no reason at all why she should place herself again in
communication with these lawyers. What would she do, then? One thing
only remained.
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