In the letter is a small object; it must be a loving surprise, a little souvenir. Yes! to-morrow is her husband's birthday. This will be a charming letter, a sweet remembrance. Michael opened the envelope very carefully, after cutting round the seal. The first thing that surprised him was a key which fell out—the key of his writing-table.
But in the letter were these words: "My dear Sir,—You left the key of your writing-table in the lock. That you may not be uneasy about it, I send it to you. God keep you!—Timéa."
Nothing further. Timar had forgotten to take out the key that night when he came home secretly, when the conversation with Athalie had so disturbed his mind.
Nothing but the key and a couple of frigid lines. Timar put down the letter in vexation.
Suddenly a dreadful idea flashed through his mind. If Timéa found this key in his writing-table lock, perhaps she looked through the desk. Women are curious, and do such things. But if she did search in it, she must have found something she would recognize. When Timar disposed of Ali Tchorbadschi's treasures, he had been careful not to part with some objects, which, if they came into the trade, might have led to discovery, but had, for the most part, only sold the separate diamonds. Among the precious objects was a medallion framed in brilliants, which contained a miniature portrait of a young lady, whose features bore a striking likeness to those of Timéa. It must be the picture of her mother, who had been a Greek. If Timéa found this medallion, she must know all; she would at once recognize her mother's portrait, and conclude that this jewel had belonged to her father. This would lead her to the further conclusion that her mother's valuables had fallen into Timar's hands, and thus she would arrive at the knowledge of how he had become rich, and that he had married her at the price of her own money. If Timéa was curious, she now knows all, and then she must despise her husband.
And do not the words of the letter betray this? Does not the wife wish her husband to understand, by the forwarding of the key, that she had discovered his secrets?
This thought was decisive to Michael as to whether his path was to lead up or down! Down!
"It is all one," thought he. "I am unmasked before the woman. I can no longer play the honest man, the true-hearted, generous benefactor. I am found out. I can only sink lower still!"
He was determined to return to the island. But he would not retreat like a defeated foe. He wrote to Timéa, and begged her to open all the letters which should come during his absence, to inform his agents of their contents, and, where a decision was necessary, to dispose, in the name of her husband, of all as she chose. At the same time he sent the key back, that it might be at hand if any documents were wanted.
That was his trump card. With the feeling that his secret was near discovery he hastened to lead up to it, and possibly that very thing might prevent its revelation. He left orders to his agents that all letters concerning his affairs were to be directed to his wife. He was going away for a long time, but he did not say where to.