That night, he wrote a letter.
Dear Mabel,
You’ll see from the head of this letter that I’ve moved into digs. What you won’t know, however, is that I’m sharing lodgings with Matthew Connaught. Sir Arthur came up trumps for us—even managed to fix it somehow that a room became free here. I’m sorry to tell you, though—
George paused, staring blankly at the wall for a moment, then continued.
I’m not at all sure I believe him guilty. He seems a very friendly, genuine young man. I’ll continue to dig, of course. I’ll write again when I have more news.
Yours affectionately,
Roger
P.S. Sir Arthur told me an odd thing yesterday. He said Pip Wharton had recommended me for work at the Admiralty, and suggested it might have been Hugh’s idea. Did you know?
P.P.S. If you write, address the letter
