It was his intention to discover whether the boards did not afford some real evidence of the crime, and it is a matter for regret that, upon perceiving that the floor had been diligently stained all over with some coffee-coloured preparation, for the second time in the evening his lordship swore. He was, in fact, in some dudgeon about to replace the lamp, when the torn edge of paper, showing between two boards, caught his observant eye….
The fine handwriting was faded, but still quite legible.
10th Jan., 1789.
SIR,
Your letter leaves me no hope but that you have been most grossly betrayed. Should you so desire, I will render you indisputable proofs that the Marquess of Bedlington hath no need of funds, much less hath delivered in any's favour a bond for the vast sum declared in your letter. In a word, though the name subscribed to the bond be that of Bedlington, it was not the Marquess' hand that set it there. Who hath done you this injury, I know not, but Time hath shown that his lordship's twin brother, Lord Stephen Rome, lately decd., with whom the Marquess was justly at variance, more than once scrupled not to assume his brother's person and title to compass his own ends….
At the mention of the twin brother, Mr. Justice Molehill raised his keen grey eyes to stare at the lamp.
"Rome," he said softly. "Rome. That's right. It was at the Grand
Hotel. And Anthony Lyveden was the name of the sole legatee. I knew
I'd heard it before."
* * * * *
Mrs. Bumble's parlourmaid was counting upon her pink fingers.
"Sunday twenty-eight, Monday twenty-nine, to-day thirty…. Yes.
To-morrow's the first of December."