"if you are determined to pursue this matter—" and he paused, with an inquiring look.
"I am resolved to find out all I can about Henry Clavering," was my decided answer.
"Then," said he, "I can tell you this much. Henry Clavering wrote a letter to Mr. Leavenworth a few days before the murder, which I have some reason to believe produced a marked effect upon the household." And, folding his arms, the secretary stood quietly awaiting my next question.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I opened it by mistake. I was in the habit of reading Mr. Leavenworth’s business letters, and this, being from one unaccustomed to write to him, lacked the mark which usually distinguished those of a private nature."
"And you saw the name of Clavering?"
"I did; Henry Ritchie Clavering."
"Did you read the letter?" I was trembling now.
The secretary did not reply.
"Mr. Harwell," I reiterated, "this is no time for false delicacy. Did you read that letter?"
"I did; but hastily, and with an agitated conscience."
"You can, however, recall its general drift?"
"It was some complaint in regard to the treatment received by him at the hand of one of Mr. Leavenworth’s nieces. I remember nothing more."
"Which niece?"
"There were no names mentioned."
"But you inferred"
"No, sir; that is just what I did not do. I forced myself to forget the whole thing."
"And yet you say it produced an effect upon the family?"
