CHAPTER XLVI.
KENELM EYRLE’S ACCUSATION.
“Where did Ronald keep his private papers?” asked Kenelm, when he had finished dinner. “Do you think there is anything among them that he would not wish to have inspected?”
“I do not think so,” she replied. “Ronald holds no secrets, if that is what you mean. There is a large bureau in the library filled with papers of all kinds. Shall we look there?”
They went to the library, which was perhaps the noblest room in the Hall. The light came through windows of richly stained glass. The furniture was of dark polished oak; the walls were lined with books. Over the elaborately carved mantelpiece hung a masterpiece by Titian. There were two statues of exquisite beauty; cozy chairs and couches of every description. As Kenelm followed Lady Alden into the room, there flashed across him a memory of the time when Clarice lay dead, and he had gone there to meet Sir Ronald.
Lady Alden turned to him suddenly.
“Do you know, Kenelm,” she said, “this room recalls my husband to me more vividly than any other. Whenever I enter it, it seems to me that I shall see him there in his favorite chair. I never come here except I am quite obliged; it recalls him too forcibly.”
“You saw him here so often,” said Mr. Eyrle; “that is the reason. Shall we open the bureau?”
She unlocked it, and, sitting down together, they looked through the mass of papers that had accumulated, patiently opening each one and closing it again.
“There is no sign of anything of the kind,” said Kenelm, when they had finished the last bundle. “Of course, there are several other places for such documents as these.”
“There is a closet filled with them in one of the spare rooms,” she replied. They examined that, they looked through all the shelves, through the drawers and closets in Sir Ronald’s study, but there was no sign of the missing papers. Lady Alden’s face grew anxious.