"It is useless," said she; "she is awake now, and you won't hear any thing more; come!"
And she drew the reluctant detective back again into the other room.
"What does it all mean?" she asked, sinking into a chair.
Mr. Gryce did not answer. He had a question of his own to put.
"Why did your mother put her hand under her pillow?" he asked.
"I don't know, unless it was to see if her big envelope was there."
"Her big envelope?"
"Yes; for weeks now, ever since she took to her bed, she has kept a paper in a big envelope under her pillow. What is in it I don't know, for she never seems to hear me when I inquire."
"And have you no curiosity to find out?"
"No, sir. Why should I? It might easily be my father's old letters sealed up, or, for that matter, be nothing more than a piece of blank paper. My mother is not herself, as I have said before."