"Next, there is the mixture of persons, the writer sometimes speaking in the first person and sometimes in the third, as, for instance, when he says, '_O N Pomeroy_ eloped with poor Lady Chetwynde;' and then he says, 'She listened to _me_ and ran off with me.'
"And then there are the incomplete sentences, such as, 'Fell in with Lady Mary Chetwynd'--'Expelled the army for gaming.'
"Lastly, there are two ways in which the lady's name is spelled, 'Chetwynde,' and 'Chetwynd.'
"You remember we decided that these might be accounted for in one of two ways. Either, first, the writer, in copying it out, grew confused in forming his cipher characters; or, secondly, he framed the whole paper with a deliberate purpose to baffle and perplex."
"I remember all this," said Gualtier, quietly. "I have not forgotten it."
"The General's death changed the aspect of affairs so completely," said Hilda, "and made this so apparently useless, that I thought you might have forgotten at least these minute particulars. It is necessary for you to have these things fresh in your mind, so as to regard the whole subject thoroughly."
"But what good will any discovery be now?" asked Gualtier, with unfeigned surprise. "The General is dead, and you can do nothing."
"The General is dead," said Hilda; "but the General's daughter lives."
Nothing could exceed the bitterness of the tone in which she uttered these words.
"His daughter! Of what possible concern can all this be to her?" asked Gualtier, who wished to get at the bottom of Hilda's purpose.