His first silent inquiry then was how to save his own humiliation by covering his wife’s disgrace; but this desire mingled with indignation and disgust that she, so well provided for—even to the matter of pin-money—should rob her own home. It was, he argued, criminal insanity. Yet he must dissemble, and baffle me if he could, he thought.
“I don’t see what you want to open my wife’s piano for, or why you can wish to inspect the piece of paper, if it be a piece of paper, you see, which I am not certain about.”
“Mr. Green,” I said solemnly, “I shall insist upon opening that piano. I shall break it open if the key is not given me. I have a trust reposed in me, than which nothing can be more solemn or stern. It is my habit, sir, to do my duty; and in the present case no earthly consideration of profit or reward would induce me to forego the slightest clue to the vindication of the woman whose fate, I may say, is in my hands.”
The situation was a very awkward one for all parties.
I thought the better plan would be to take upon myself the first action, and thus relieve Mrs. Green from any further refusal to produce the key, by taking from my pocket a small instrument sufficiently powerful to break the lock. I did this, and neither husband nor wife ventured to resist me.
As I lifted the lid a letter became visible. Mrs. Green snatched at it, endeavouring to grasp it off the key-board of the instrument.
I had anticipated such an act on her part, and, as she felt the resistance of my right arm, I took it with my left hand.
“That is a letter of mine, sir.”
“It may be, madam; but I must know the contents.”
“Do you allow that?” she inquired of her husband.