“We are alone, are we?” asked Sir Within, faintly.
“Quite alone.”
“Yates says there were no letters or papers to be found when he entered the room——”
“I placed them all in my pocket,” interrupted Grenfell. “There were so many people about, and that fellow of young Ladarelle’s too, that I thought it best not to leave anything at their mercy.”
“It was very kind and very thoughtful. Where are they?”
“Here. I sealed them up in their own envelope.”
The old man took the paper with a trembling hand, and placed it under his pillow. He had little doubt but that they had been read—his old experiences in diplomacy gave no credit to any sense of honour on this head—but he said not a word of this.
“Adolphus has married the girl you saw here—my ward, he used to call her,” said he, in a low whisper.
“Indeed! Is it a good match? Has she fortune?”
“Not a shilling. Neither fortune nor family.”