"Among them a letter addressed simply, 'To His Royal Highness'?"
"That is so, sir."
"You gave that letter to me, unopened, in the presence of Mistress Waynflete?"
"I did," said I, and Margaret nodded agreement.
"Several attempts have been made to recover the letter from you?"
"At least three such attempts were made by the late sergeant, and two by my lord Brocton," I replied.
"Their lordships' urgent need of recovering the letter is thus proven, and the Court will attach due weight to the facts," said Master Freake. Brocton turned white as a sheet, and the old rogue shook as a dead leaf shakes on its twig before the wind strips it off. There was in them none of the family pride which keeps the great families agoing.
"I opened the letter. I mastered its contents. I still have it," continued Master Freake, every sentence, like the crash of a sledge-hammer, making these craven bystanders shake at the knees. "It is deposited, sealed up again, with a sure friend, who has instructions, unless I claim it in person on or before the last day of this year, to deliver it in person to the King. At present no one knows its contents except my lord Brocton who wrote it, and I who read it."
"Thank God!" ejaculated the rascal old earl fervently.
"Egad," thought I to myself. "It's the Ridgeley estates no less."