ber, Mr. Hurd," she said, "whether this small
packet which I have here was amongst the papers which you found had been
disturbed after the attack upon your father?"

"I am sorry," the young man answered, "but it is quite impossible for me
to say. I do not remember it particularly."

Wilhelmina turned it over thoughtfully. It was an insignificant packet
to hold the tragedy of a woman's life.

"You see," she continued, "that it has the appearance of having been
tampered with. There are marks of sealing wax upon the tape and upon the
paper here. Then, too," she continued, turning it over, "it has been
tied up hastily, unlike any of the other packets. The tape, too, is much
too long. It looks almost as though some letters or papers had been
withdrawn."

"I am afraid I cannot help you at all," he admitted regretfully. "My
father never allowed any one but himself to open that safe. Mine was the
out-of-door share of the work--and the rent-book, of course. I kept
that."

She slowly undid the tape. The contents of the packet consisted of
several letters, which she smoothed out with her fingers before
beginning to read. Stephen Hurd stood with his back towards her,
rearranging the bundles of documents in the safe.

"You have no idea then," she asked softly, "of the contents of this
packet?"

He turned deliberately round. He was not in the least comfortable. It
was almost as though she could see through his tweed shooting-jacket
into that inner pocket.

"May I see which packet you refer to?" he asked.

She showed it to him without placing it in his hand. He shook his head.

"No!" he said, "I have not noticed them before."

She sighed--or was it a yawn? At any rate, her eyes left his face, for
which he was immediately grateful. She began to read the papers, and,
having finished his task, he walked towards the window and stood there
looking out. He stood there minute after minute, hearing only the sound
of rustling paper behind. When at last it ceased he turned around.

She had risen to her feet and was slowly drawing on her gloves. The
letters had disappeared, presumably into her pocket, but she made no
reference to them. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and deliberate
as usual. Somehow or other he was at once conscious, however, that she
had received a shock.

"I presume, Mr. Hurd," she said quietly, "that amongst your father's
private papers you did not discover anything--unexpected?"

"I am afraid I scarcel