'You knew Tom Durham well?' cried Pauline, clasping her hands. 'Mon Dieu, I see it all! You are the H. S., whose letter I have here!'
As she spoke she took a pocket-book from the bosom of her dress, and from it extracted a paper, which she handed to Statham.
'That is my handwriting, surely,' said Humphrey, running his eyes over the document. 'In it I acknowledge the receipt of a packet which I promised to take care of, and declare I will not give it up save to Tom himself, or to some person duly accredited by him. The packet is in that iron safe, where it has remained ever since.'
'What do you imagine it contains?' asked Martin.
'I have not the remotest idea,' replied his friend. 'As you will see, by a perusal of this paper, Tom Durham offered to inform me, but I declined to receive his confidence, partly because I thought my ignorance might be of service to him, partly to prevent myself being compromised.'
'Do you think it could have any bearing upon Alice?' asked Pauline.
'If I thought so, I should not hesitate for an instant to place it in your hands. Whatever may have been the motive by which you were actuated at first, you have been a sure and steady friend to that poor girl, and I have perfect reliance on you.'
'This poor man, Durham, will now never come to claim the packet himself,' said Martin Gurwood, 'and his widow is plainly his nearest representative. If there be anything in it which concerns Mrs. Claxton, we should never forgive ourselves for not having taken advantage of the information which it may contain.'
'You think, then, perhaps on the whole I should be justified in handing it to Madame Du-- I mean to this lady,' said Statham.
'Certainly, I think so.'