Tristan sat back. He didn't like the idea of Pippa going out while a murderer was looking for her. And anyway, his offer had been generous, hadn't it? It wasn't like he enjoyed the thought of his maid pursuing her lower appetites under his roof, but if it was the only way to keep her safe...

Tristan kept his sulky thoughts to himself however, and drank the rest of his brandy. He set the glass down. "That still leaves us with the murderer himself. Something needs to be done, or Pippa with either be a hermit for the rest of her life or dead, and the inheritance won't do her any good then. I think we ought to at least let the police know. Even if you don't have the letter, Pippa, you could tell them what it said and show them your drawing. Even if there is no evidence, they have at least been alerted, in case the man shows up in Whitby. We could also try to get in touch with your former school. See if they have kept any of your belongings. We may recover the letter that way."