“My maid, Lutie.”
“Was she the thief?”
“No, I think,—I am quite positive, she was not. She says they were given to her to deliver to my brother.”
“By whom?”
“She does not tell. By the way, I promised my brother William that I would try to fathom the matter. Rhoda, where is Mr. Clinton?”
Rhoda did not answer for a moment; then she said: “You still suspect him? Do you mean me to infer that you believe it was he who gave Lutie the papers?”
“I don’t know what to think. I would rather fasten my suspicions on some one else, for more reasons than one.”
“What reasons?”
“I would rather be sure the papers had not been copied.”
“You believe he would do such a thing as that? I do not. I have more faith in him than you, Lettice.”