“I did, Mr Saunders; and if I find, from what you can tell me, that Mrs St. Felix is the real Mrs Fitzgerald, I will produce that friend and her husband. Now are you satisfied?”
“I am,” replied I, “and I will now tell you everything.” I then entered into a detail from the time that Mrs St. Felix gave me the spy-glass, and erased the name, until the death of Spicer. “I have now done, sir,” replied I, “and you must draw your own conclusions.”
“I thank you, sir,” replied he; “allow me now to ask you one or two other questions. How does Mrs St. Felix gain her livelihood, and what character does she bear?”
I replied to the former by stating that she kept a tobacconist’s shop; and to the latter by saying that she was a person of most unimpeachable character, and highly respected.
Sir James O’Connor filled a tumbler of wine for me, and then his own. As soon as he had drunk his own off, he said, “Mr Saunders, you don’t know how you have obliged me. I am excessively anxious about this matter, and I wish, if you are not obliged to go back to Deal immediately, that you would undertake for me a commission to Greenwich. Any trouble or expense—”
“I will do anything for Mrs St. Felix, Sir James; and I shall not consider trouble or expense,” replied I.
“Will you then oblige me by taking a letter to Greenwich immediately? I cannot leave my ship at present—it is impossible.”
“Certainly I will, Sir James.”
“And will you bring her down here?”
“If she will come. The letter I presume will explain everything, and prevent any too sudden shock.”