A visiting card—but whose?
As Crozier picks it up, and reads the name, his blood curdles, the hair crisping on his head:
“Mr Edward Crozier; H.B.M. Frigate Crusader.”
His own!
He does not need to be told how the card came there. Too well remembers he when, where, and to whom he gave it—to Don Francisco De Lara on the day of their encounter.
Thrusting it into his pocket, he clutches at the letters, and looks at their superscription—“Don Francisco de Lara!”
Opening, he rapidly reads them one after another. His hands holding them shake as with a palsy; while in his eyes there is a look of keenest apprehension. For he fears that, subscribed to some, he will find another name—that of Carmen Montijo! If so, farewell to all faith in human kind. Harry Blew’s ingratitude has destroyed his belief in man. A letter from the daughter of Don Gregorio Montijo to the gambler Frank Lara, will alike wither his confidence in woman.
With eager eyes, and lips compressed, he continues the perusal of the letters. They are from many correspondents, and relate to various matters, most about money and monté, signed “Faustino Calderon.”
As the last of them slips through his fingers, he breathes freely, but with a sigh of self-reproach for having doubted the woman who was to have been his wife.
Turning to Cadwallader—as himself aware of all—he says, in solemn emphasis: