She took the linen envelope from the safe, and turned it over. Upon the other side was an address, written in a strong, peculiar hand: "Justin O'Reilly, care of The Manager, Columbian Bank, New York City," she read.
There was just one reason to believe that the envelope contained Mrs. Sands' papers; Clo's own strong, instinctive conviction.
Tentatively she pressed one of the seals. It cracked across. Another went the same way, and as she touched the third there came a sound of talking outside the door. "Open it for me with your pass-key, please," a man said. It was O'Reilly's voice.
XIII
"THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN"
When Beverley Sands had shut the door between Clodagh's room and Sister Lake's, she stood silent before Justin O'Reilly.
"Well, Mrs. Sands," he said, "I must congratulate you."
"On—what?" she stammered. She looked very young and humble, not at all the proud princess who had captured Roger Sands against his will.
O'Reilly answered, still smiling his cruel smile, "It's not too late for congratulations on your marriage, is it? By the way, perhaps one wishes well to the bride and congratulates the bridegroom! I mean nothing invidious."