Bella knew she had a right to be bitterly indignant at her husband's preposterous accusation. But she told herself that now was not the time to show it; she would punish Oliver later on.
She waited a moment and then cried, "Catch!"
Oliver instinctively held out his hands. A bulky envelope fell into them. It was addressed in a handwriting he knew well,—the unformed, and yet meticulous handwriting of Henry Buck. On it was written:
"Mrs. Oliver Germaine,
"19, West Chapel Street,
"Mayfair."
In the corner were added the words:
"Any one finding this, and taking it to the above address, will be handsomely rewarded."
"Open it!" she said imperiously. "Open it, and see what is inside,—he only brought it to-day."
Oliver opened the envelope. Folded in two pieces of paper was a packet of bank-notes held together with an elastic band.
Germaine looked up questioningly at his wife.
Bella hung her head. She had the grace to feel embarrassed, ashamed in this moment that she believed to be the moment of her exculpation. Her pretty little hands, laden with rings, each one of which had been given her by her husband, were again toying with the fringe of her blue sash.