“And yet he might have shared them with—with another person?”
“Yes.”
“And the other—the other person”—Viola hesitated noticeably over the word—“would have to be present when the safe was opened?” She did not say “he” or “she.”
“Well, not necessarily,” answered the expert. “He might have had the combination in two parts, and used both of them himself. It is often done. Though, of course, he could, at any time, have shared the secret of the safe with some one else.”
“That would only be in the event of there being something in it that both he and some other person would want to take out at the same time; something that one could not get at without the knowledge of the other; would it not?”
“Naturally, yes. But, as I say, it might be the other way—that the double combination was used merely as an additional precaution.”
“Thank you,” said Viola.
She sat for several minutes in front of the opened safe after the expert had gone, and did not offer to take out any of the papers that were now exposed to view. There was a strange look on her face.
“Two persons!” she murmured. “Two persons! Did he share the secrets of this safe with some one—some one else?”
Viola reached forth her hand and took hold of a bundle of papers tied with a red band-tape it was, of the kind used in lawyers' offices. The bundle appeared to contain letters—old letters, and the handwriting was that of a woman.