“Certainly, I will!” he said. “I’ll show you the letter, and where I found it, and anything else you want to see. Nothing is locked, to-night.” 331
They went over to the escritoire. Croyden opened the secret drawer, and took out the letter.
“A Message from the Dead!” he said, solemnly, and handed it to Elaine.
She carried it to the table, spread it out under the lamp, and Davila and she studied it, carefully, even as Croyden and Macloud had done—reading the Duval endorsements over and over again.
“It seems to me there is something queer about these postscripts,” she said, at last; “something is needed to make them clear. Is this the entire letter?—didn’t you find anything else?”
“Nothing!” said Croyden.
“May I look?” she asked.
“Most assuredly, sweetheart.”
“It’s a bit dark in this hole. Let me have a match.”
She struck it, and peered back into the recess.