“I do not know, Miss Heathcote; Fred Bingham was playing for high stakes. At that time James had not been discovered. Your uncle had told him that he had disowned Frank, and made him his sole heir. He had kept silent as to his own fault and Frank’s innocence. He knew, therefore, that the result of a meeting must be the eventual discovery of the truth, and his own absolute disgrace. Under the circumstances, then, he would of course have used every effort to prevent any letter Frank might write from reaching you. He might have bribed the postman to let him see all the letters before delivering them at the house, or he might have paid one of your servants to keep them back for him.”
“By Gad!” Captain Bradshaw said, in a violent passion, “I will get to the bottom of this business, whatever it costs me. No wonder Frank and you thought I was mad. They thought I was out of my mind, Alice. By Gad, I will have some one hung for it before I have done;” and Captain Bradshaw walked furiously up and down the room.
“Who was in the habit of taking the letters from the postman?”
“The footman,” Alice said; “he has been with us ever since—he went abroad with us—he is down-stairs now.”
“Will you let me speak to him, Captain Bradshaw? But if you do, please let me do it my own way. If we frighten him, he will of course say nothing.”
Captain Bradshaw rang the bell. “Tell my footman to come up.”
“We want to ask you a few questions, James,” Prescott said, when the man entered. “You have been in Captain Bradshaw’s service for some time?”
“Eight years, sir, altogether.”
“Now, James, I want you to answer my questions, just as if Captain Bradshaw were not here. You understand me? You are to speak just as you think. Well, James, you have found Captain Bradshaw a kind master?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, “he is a very good master.”