"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall them to my mind."
He stood looking at her silently.
"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a public library, no doubt. The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go elsewhere."
"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you."
"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair.
He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the subject.
"Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your aid."
He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied.
"Have you found all that you wanted?"
"Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured—the fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia Janet Westwood"—"Cynthia West"—it was plain enough to her quick intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the Times.