“He says something of a key. What key does he mean?” asked he.
“Fetch me that writing-desk,” said Lady Dorothea, as she took several keys from her pockets; and noiselessly unlocking the box, she began to search amidst its contents. As she continued, her gestures grew more and more hurried; she threw papers recklessly here and there, and at last emptied the entire contents upon the table before her. “See, search if there be a key here,” cried she, in a broken voice; “I saw it here three days ago.”
“There is none here,” said he, wondering at her eagerness.
“Look carefully,—look well for it,” said she, her voice trembling at every word.
“Is it of such consequence—”
“It is of such consequence,” broke she in, “that he into whose hands it falls can leave you and me beggars on the world!” An effort at awaking by the sick man here made her hastily restore the papers to the desk, which she locked, and replaced upon the table.
“Was it the Henderson did this?” said she aloud, as if asking the question of herself. “Could she have known this secret?”
“Did what? What secret?” asked he, anxiously.