not open, and was only put in for symmetry. It was possible that he had
opened this compartment by candlelight the preceding night, or he would
have seen the marks in the dust, and effaced them, that he might not
be proved guilty of telling her an untruth. She balanced herself on one
foot and stood pondering. She considered that it was very vexing and
unfair in him to refuse her all knowledge of his remaining secrets,
under the peculiar circumstances of her connection with him. She went
close to the cabinet. As there was no keyhole, the door must be capable
of being opened by the unassisted hand. The circles in the dust told her
at which edge to apply her force. Here she pulled with the tips of her
fingers, but the panel would not come forward. She fetched a chair and
looked over the top of the cabinet, but no bolt, knob, or spring was to
be seen.

'O, never mind,' she said, with indifference; 'I'll ask him about it,
and he will tell me.' Down she came and turned away. Then looking back
again she thought it was absurd such a trifle should puzzle her.
She retraced her steps, and opened a drawer beneath the ledge of the
cabinet, pushing in her hand and feeling about on the underside of the
board.

Here she found a small round sinking, and pressed her finger into it.
Nothing came of the pressure. She withdrew her hand and looked at the
tip of her finger: it was marked with the impress of the circle, and, in
addition, a line ran across it diametrically.

'How stupid of me; it is the head of a screw.' Whatever mysterious
contrivance had originally existed for opening the puny cupboard of
the cabinet, it had at some time been broken, and this rough substitute
provided. Stimulated curiosity would not allow her to recede now. She
fetched a screwdriver, withdrew the screw, pulled the door open with a
penknife, and found inside a cavity about ten inches square. The cavity
contained--

Letters from different women, with unknown signatures, Christian names
only (surnames being despised in Paphos). Letters from his wife Eunice.
Letters from Anne herself, including that she wrote in answer to his
advertisement. A small pocket-book. Sundry scraps of paper.

The letters from the strange women with pet names she glanced carelessly
through, and then put them aside. They were too similar to her own
regretted delusion, and curiosity requires contrast to excite it.

The letters from his wife were next examined. They were dated back a