"'Please destroy the other letter and this, and save an old servant who honours the family from the anger of Mrs. Admaston.'"
The judge paused, carefully scrutinising the letter; then he took up an ivory reading-glass and looked at the letter through the magnifying lens.
"Am I right, Mr. Carteret," he said, "in my view that this letter has been blotted and not allowed to dry?"
Mr. Carteret leant over and had a hurried conversation with his handwriting expert. "I am instructed that there is no doubt as to that, my lord," he said, looking up.
"I should much like to see that blotting-paper," the President remarked.
"Blotting-paper!" said Sir Robert Fyffe. "So should we all, my lord." Then he rose to his feet. "Now, Mrs. Admaston, having read this letter, do you still dare to repeat that until you had the misfortune to miss the train at Boulogne you had no intention of spending the night in Paris with Mr. Collingwood?"
Peggy did not answer.
She stared at the letter upon the judge's desk as if fascinated by it.
"My lord and the jury are waiting for an answer," Sir Robert repeated. "Come, madam."
"And what answer can I give?" the tortured girl said faintly.