"Yes, sir."
"Now, which of the two was upon the envelope of the letter you gave Hannah?"
"I could n’t say. It was a disguised handwriting and might have been that of either; but I think"
"Well?"
"That it was more like hers than his, though it was n’t like hers either."
With a smile, Mr. Gryce enclosed the confession in his hand in the envelope in which it had been found. "You remember how large the letter was which you gave her?"
"Oh, it was large, very large; one of the largest sort."
"And thick?"
"O yes; thick enough for two letters."
"Large enough and thick enough to contain this?" laying the confession, folded and enveloped as it was, before her.
"Yes, sir," giving it a look of startled amazement, "large enough and thick enough to contain that."
Mr. Gryce’s eyes, bright as diamonds, flashed around the room, and finally settled upon a fly traversing my coat-sleeve. "Do you need to ask now," he whispered, in a low voice, "where, and from whom, this so-called confession comes?"
Mr. Gryce allowed himself one moment of silent triumph, then rising, began folding the papers on the table and putting them in his pocket.
"What are you going to do?" I asked, hurriedly approaching.
He took me by the arm and led me across the hall into the sitting-room. "I am going back to New
