“You wait and see!” he said.
“I must go to her at once,” said Trafford, feverishly.
“One moment,” said Varley, gravely, and with something like his old languid tone. “I, too, should like to shake hands with you, if you will permit me. It strikes me you’ve not been the only fool in this business. And that there’s a villain, too.”
They looked at him inquiringly.
Varley sat on the edge of the table, with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking like the old Varley, as he said:
“Will you allow me to ask you a question or two, my lord?”
Trafford assented mutely.
“I’m rather curious to fit in a little piece of this puzzle which seems to me to be missing just at present, and which the thing wants to make it a complete map of the whole business. You’ve seen those children’s puzzles, I dare say, my lord?”
The two men waited with intense gravity.
“I should like to ask you, duke, who gave you that letter of Norman’s?”