“Let me look,” he said.
Sir Edward gave it into his hands. Mr. Coulson held it under the electric light. There was no indication in his face of any surprise or disturbance.
“Bit short of gum in our stationery office,” he remarked.
Sir Edward was looking at him steadily.
“My impressions were,” he said, “when I opened this letter, that I was not the first person who had done so. The envelope flew apart in my fingers.”
Mr. Coulson shook his head.
“The document has never been out of my possession, sir,” he said. “It has not even left my person. My friend Mr. Jones does not believe in too much secrecy in matters of this sort. I have had a good deal of experience now and am inclined to agree with him. A letter in a double-ended envelope, stuck all over with sealing wax, is pretty certain to be opened in case of any accident to the bearer. This one, as you may not have noticed, is written in the same handwriting and addressed in the same manner as the remainder of my letters of introduction to various London and Paris houses of business.”
Sir Edward said no more. He read the few lines written on a single sheet of notepaper, starting a little at the signature. Then he read them again and placed the document beneath a paper weight in front of him. When he leaned across the table, his folded arms formed a semicircle around it.
“This letter, Mr. Coulson,” he said, “is not an official communication.”
“It is not,” Mr. Coulson admitted. “I fancy it occurred to my friend Jones that anything official would be hardly in place and might be easier to evade. The matter has already cropped up in negotiations between Mr. Harvey and your Cabinet, but so far we are without any definite pronouncement,—at least, that is how my friend Mr. Jones looks at it.”