Sick with horror, I was stumbling away from this dreadful place when
Mr. Shrig's voice stayed me.
"'Old 'ard, sir—bide a bit! If the con-clusions as I've drawed is correct, here should be summat o' yourn."
Turning about, I espied him on his knees, examining the contents of the dead man's pockets with a methodical precision that revolted me.
"Of mine?" said I, shuddering.
"Your werry own, sir. 'T was one o' the reasons as I brought you along—I do 'ope Windictiveness here ain't destroyed it—ah, 'ere it is, Mr. Werricker, sir—though the seal's broke, you'll ob-serve."
Dazed and wondering, I took the letter he held out to me, but no sooner had I glanced at the superscription than I forgot all else for the moment.
"How—how should that man—come by this?" I stammered at last.
"Took or pur-loined it from the young 'ooman Nancy Price, sir, according to 'er own ewidence, as stated to me in my little office this mornin'—an' her a-veepin' all over my papers, pore lass! Aha!" exclaimed Mr. Shrig, still busied on his researches. "He's got summat in this 'ere 'ind pocket as I can't come at—p'raps you'll obleege me by heavin' Windictiveness over a bit, sir? Why, never mind, sir—done it myself—"
"How—did the young woman come by this letter?"
"'T is in ewidence as years ago she was maid to a lady—now Mrs. Vere-Manville, it was give her by that same. What, are ye goin', sir? Werry good, this ain't exactly a cheery spot at present. Will you be so obleegin' as to send a cart an', say, a 'urdle for these ere birds o' mine?"