Dear Mr. Mornington:
I do believe the filthy little urchin delivering this note to you is the same that trotted your cleverly-disguised letters to my door. Unfortunately, sir, identifying you as the sender was a simple matter, as was verifying the authenticity of the missives from my neice and her…companion.
That said, I must commend you on the level of skill and craftiness with which you dispatched your plan. One can only assume, however, that the ruse was nothing more than an effort to save yourself a few dollars on liquor. For shame, man; have some honor! A wager won is a wager won. You would be well-advised to reserve duplicitous dealings for matters of grave importance rather than petty avoidance. This advice holds regardless of the character to whom you owe a debt, which, alas, must be a challenge.
At this point in time, I will assume you had no hand in the effort to pronounce Mr. Lighthouse deceased, and that your rumor-mongering was self-serving. Since you have nothing to gain but a fatter ledger, this is a simple deduction. Halting the death-certification paperwork begun by my solicitor in City Hall was easily done in any case (with a few well-placed coins), so I bear you no ill will. In fact, I look forward with some eagerness to your next musical presentation.
With utmost sincerity,
Mrs. Abigail Sharp
P.S. – Have I mentioned that I’m in my sixties?
*Arnold waits outside the entrance to the bar, waiting his turn to have a chat with the man.*