From this parcel he drew a thin packet of typed matter and a
couple of letters--the type script he laid aside, the letters he opened
out on his table. Then he took from his pocket the letter which Audrey
Greyle had given him and put it side by side with those taken from the
parcel. And after one brief glance at all three Mr. Dennie made
typescript and letters up again into a neat packet, restored them to his
trunk, locked them up, and turned to the two hours' rest which he always
took before going to the theatre for his evening's work.
He was back at Scarhaven by eleven o'clock the next morning, with his
neat packet under his arm and he held it up significantly to Audrey who
opened the door of the cottage to him.
"Something to show you," he said with a quiet smile as he walked in.
"To show you and your mother." He stopped short on the threshold of the
little parlour, where Copplestone was just then talking to Mrs. Greyle.
"Oh!" he said, a little disappointedly, "I hoped to find you
alone--I'll wait."
Mrs. Greyle explained who Copplestone was, and Mr. Dennie immediately
brightened. "Of course--of course!" he explained. "I know! Glad to meet
you, Mr. Copplestone--you don't know me, but I know you--or your
work--well enough. It was I who read and recommended your play to our
poor dear friend. It's a little secret, you know," continued Mr.
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