But perhaps if she did
that, he would go off somewhere with that Warren woman.
Michael presently re-entered the carriage and in silence they
returned to Portland Place.
The next day his wife meeting one of her Anti-Suffrage friends said:
"Er--supposing--er--you had got to know something about these
dreadful militant women, something which might help the police, yet
didn't want to get _too_ much mixed up with it yourself, and
_certainly_ not bring your husband into it--the Professor
_thoroughly_ disapproves of militancy, even though he may have
foolish ideas about the Vote--er--what would you do?"
"Well, what is it?"
"It's part of a letter."
"Well, I should just send it to the Criminal Investigation
Department, New Scotland Yard, and tell them under what
circumstances it came into your possession. You needn't even give
your name or address. They'll soon know whether it's any use or
not." So Mrs. Rossiter took from her desk that scrap of partly burnt
paper with the typewritten words on it which she had picked out of
the grate two and a half years before, and posted it to the Criminal
Investigation Department, with the intimation that this fragment had
come into the possession of the sender some time ago, and seemed to
refer to a militant Suffragist who called herself "Vivie Warren" or
"David Williams," and perhaps it might be of some assistance to the
authorities in tracking down these dangerous women who now stuck at
nothing.
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