"Now, Pargeter," he said, sharply, "will you please come over here?"
The whole of the inside of the desk was filled with neat packets, each carefully tied up and docketed; on several had been written, "In the case of my death, to be burnt;" on other packets, "To be returned to Madame de Léra in case of my death."
Vanderlyn saw that here at least were none of his letters, and none from Peggy's child.
"It's no use bothering about any of these," said Pargeter, crossly, "they can't tell us anything. Why anyone should trouble to keep old letters is quite beyond me!"
"That little knob that you see there, sir," said Plimmer, in her diffident, well-trained voice, "is the head of a brass pin; if you draw it out, sir, it releases the side drawer. I think you will find more letters there,—at least that is where Master Jasper's letters are, I know."
She looked furtively at Vanderlyn, and her look said, "If you want to have the truth you shall have it!"
"I say, how queer!" exclaimed Pargeter. "A secret drawer! eh, Grid?"
"All old pieces of furniture have that kind of thing," said Vanderlyn, "there isn't any secret about it."
Pargeter fumbled at the brass-headed pin; he pulled it out, and a drawer which filled up the side of the davenport shot out. Yes, here were more packets inscribed with the words, "Jasper's letters, written at school," and then others, "To be returned to Laurence Vanderlyn in case of my death;" and two or three loose letters.
"Well, these won't tell us anything, eh, Grid?" Pargeter opened the first envelope under his hand:—