his official subordinates. "Sit
down. What is it?"

"It is some business, Mr. Cossey," the lawyer answered in his usual
quiet tones.

"Honham Castle mortgages again, I suppose," he growled. "I only hope
you don't want any more money on that account at present, that's all;
because I can't raise another cent while my father lives. They don't
entail cash and bank shares, you know, and though my credit's pretty
good I am not far from the bottom of it."

"Well," said Mr. Quest, with a faint smile, "it has to do with the
Honham Castle mortgages; but as I have a good deal to say, perhaps we
had better wait till the things are cleared."

"All right. Just ring the bell, will you, and take a cigarette?"

Mr. Quest smiled again and rang the bell, but did not take the
cigarette. When the breakfast things had been removed he took a chair,
and placing it on the further side of the table in such a position
that the light, which was to his back, struck full upon Edward
Cossey's face, began to deliberately untie and sort his bundle of
papers. Presently he came to the one he wanted--a letter. It was not
an original letter, but a copy. "Will you kindly read this, Mr.
Cossey?" he said quietly, as he pushed the letter towards him across
the table.

Edward finished lighting his cigarette, then took the letter up and
glanced at it carelessly. At sight of the first line his expression
changed to one of absolute horror, his face blanched, the perspiration
sprang out upon his forehead, and the cigarette dropped from his
fingers to the carpet, where it lay smouldering. Nor was this
wonderful, for the letter was a copy of one of Belle's most passionate
epistles to himself. He had never been able to restrain her from
writing these compromising letters. Indeed, this one was the very same
that some little time before Mr. Quest had abstracted from the pocket
of Mr. Cossey's lounging coat in the room in London.

He read on for a little way and then put the letter down upon the
table. There was no need for him to go further, it was all in the same
strain.

"You will observe, Mr. Cossey, that this is a copy," said Mr. Quest,
"but if you like you can inspect the original document."

He made no answer.

"Now," went on Mr. Quest, handing him a second paper, "here is the
copy of another letter, of which the original is in your handwriting."

Edward looked at it. It was an intercepted letter of his own, dated
about a year before, and its conte