“As open as the day—eh? You really think so. She’s not a bit secretive, now?”
“Secretive! My sister?” said Llewellyn, drawing himself up and flushing angrily.
“There, don’t get peppery. I’m very much obliged to you. You shall have these letters back again in a day or two at the farthest.”
“But are you going, Mr. Parker?”
“Yes; I must hurry back to town as fast as ever I can. Now, good-by to you; but hark, Llewellyn, not a word of this to your mother.”
“Certainly not, if you do not wish it, sir; but I fail to understand.”
“You must have faith, my boy. You will know all sooner or later.”
With the letters in his pocket, Mr. Parker went straight off to Scotland Yard. There he had an interview with Chief-Inspector Jones, got the address of a special expert of handwriting, and drove off to the man’s house.
Mr. Essex was in, and Mr. Parker had a short, emphatic interview with him.
“Well, sir.” he said finally, “you quite understand. You will examine the letters, and let me know the result to-morrow morning.”