The servant left the library, and in a minute or so returned with a packet of papers tied with silk cord. He handed them to the earl, who pushed them towards the detective, saying, as he did so—
“I have not the courage to open them just now. You can do so.”
“I will not open them,” answered Mr. Wrench; “but, with your permission, will take a note of the postmarks and dates.”
He sorted them, placed them on the table in chronological order, pulled out his note-book, and made entries therein. Then he closed the book, and said—
“This looks a little more promising. I have some material now to work upon. At your leisure, my lord, you can peruse the contents of the epistles, and possibly there may be something which may be of service to us in the pursuit of this inquiry.”
“I will go carefully over them when I am a little more composed,” observed the earl.
“Good. I shall not return to London just at present, for special reasons. I deem it expedient to remain in this neighbourhood.”
“Will you take up your quarters here?”
“No, I thank you, my lord. It would be best, I think, to put up at an inn. There will be more chance of my picking up information in a place of public resort. We have our own way of doing business,” observed Wrench, with a smile.
Lord Ethalwood bowed and smiled also.