Mr. Jakyl stood aghast—he could hardly believe that he had heard aright.
“Did any letters arrive?” he paused, and glanced nervously at his master.
“Go on. Answer, Jakyl, you have my permission.”
“Yes, sir; several arrived after the departure of my young mistress, but——”
“You were told to destroy them,” observed the detective. “Did you do so?”
“I would rather not answer the question,” said the butler, in evident trepidation; then, turning to Lord Ethalwood, he murmured in an under tone—“If I have done wrong, my lord, I hope you will pardon me. I did not destroy my young mistress’s letters.”
“A very discreet and sensible man,” ejaculated Mr. Wrench. “And pray why did you disobey his lordship?”
“Because I hoped that at some time they might be useful.”
“You have displayed great wisdom in your course of action—you cannot be too strongly commended, Mr. ——. I don’t know your name.”
“Jakyl.”