“But that cramped hand might be feigned to conceal the powers of penmanship,” said Mr. Temple.
“Well! granting her ladyship’s talents were equal to the mere execution,” Alfred persisted in thinking she had not abilities sufficient to invent or combine all the parts of such a scheme. “She might be an accomplice, but she must have had a principal—and who could that principal be?”
The same suspicion, the same person, came at the same moment into the heads of both gentlemen, as they sat looking at each other.
“There is an intimacy between them,” said Alfred. “Recollect all the pains Lady Trant took for Mrs. Falconer about English Clay—they—”
“Mrs. Falconer! But how could she possibly get at Lord Oldborough’s private seal—a seal that is always locked up—a seal never used to any common letter, never to any but those written by his own hand to some private friend, and on some very particular occasion? Since I have been with him I have not seen him use that seal three times.”
“When and to whom, can you recollect?” said Alfred.
“I recollect!—I have it all!” exclaimed Mr. Temple, striking the table—“I have it! But, Lady Frances Arlington—I am sorry she is gone.”
“Why! what of her?—Lady Frances can have nothing more to do with the business.”
“She has a great deal more, I can assure you—but without knowing it.”
“Of that I am certain, or all the world would have known it long ago: but tell me how.”