Miss Drake heard him quietly, her bright eyes fixed on his earnest face. "I believe thou art a good man, Friend Eustace," she said, "and, for the sake of my poor boy, I will trust thee. Sixteen years ago, just before Friend Lancaster stopped writing, he sent me an envelope which he asked me to give Frank on his twenty-fifth birthday. I intended to do so with my own hands, but as this trouble prevents me from doing so, I will give the letter to thee--" She stopped and folded her hands as though in prayer. "I trust I am doing right," she murmured to herself, "but the man seems good and kindly."
"I swear you can trust me, Miss Drake. I have Frank's interests at heart. I shall take the letter back, and ask Frank to open it."
"But it was not to be opened until his twenty-fifth birthday."
"Under the circumstances I think it should be opened at once," pleaded Jarman, earnestly; "there is no good to be gained by waiting. And, remember, Frank is in great danger. Should Berry succeed in tracing him, he will denounce him at once to the police. If Frank is tried, I don't see what defence he can put forward."
"But he is innocent, poor lamb."
"I am sure of that. But the circumstantial evidence is too strong."
Miss Drake thought for a few moments. "Friend Jarman," she said at length, "by his unhappy position Frank is tied hand and foot, and thou must act for him. If thou dost think that the letter is vital to the proving of his innocence, why not open it now?"
Eustace shook his head. "I can't say if the letter will prove his innocence," he said doubtfully, "but it may be a clue to the mystery. I prefer that Frank should open the letter."
"I will get it for thee," said Miss Drake, rising. "One moment," said Jarman as she walked to the door. "Have you ever heard the name of Tamaroo?"
"No. A strange name. But I know it not."