“What do you mean?” asked her brother. “What is gone?”
“The box with the papers. I hid it by the footstone where Theophilus Hopkins is buried, and just now, when Mr. Baldwin and I went to get it, we found nothing there. Some one has taken it.”
“Have you any idea of who could have done it?”
Lettice twisted her fingers nervously, and gave a quick distressed look toward Ellicott Baldwin, but she made no answer.
“Have you any idea of who could have taken the box?” General Benson asked. “Speak up, my child. Remember that you are a loyal little girl, and that it is for the good of your country that we discover these papers. Beyond that, your brother’s honor is involved, and you will place him in a most embarrassing position if the papers fail to appear. Did any one see you secrete these papers?”
“Yes.” Lettice spoke so low that she could scarcely be heard. Mr. Baldwin watched her silently, but with an expression of deep sympathy.
“Will you tell us whom you suspect?” said her brother, gently. “My little sister is so tender-hearted, gentlemen, that she is loath to divulge the name of the culprit, if indeed she knows it. Suppose we talk it over by ourselves, little sister, if these gentlemen will excuse us.” And putting his arm around her, he led her from the room.
When they were alone she put her head down on his shoulder and wept silently. “I don’t want to tell, brother,” she said, when she had become more composed. “I was very angry at first, but I don’t want to get any one into trouble, and of course I have no proof; I only suspect. But one person saw me as I was covering up the box, and—Oh, if I could only get the papers back, would I need to tell?”
Her brother considered the question. “Perhaps not. It would depend upon the person. If a dangerous enemy were working us harm, you would want him to be put where he could do us no injury, wouldn’t you?”
“If that could be managed? If he should leave the country?” said Lettice, eagerly.