It was packed full of clothing.
There were dainty dresses of different materials—silk, and wool, and muslin. There were mantels and jackets, with underclothing, finely embroidered and trimmed with lace, besides many other accessories of a refined lady’s toilet. There were pretty boxes filled with laces, ribbons, handkerchiefs, and gloves. There was a small jewel casket, in which there were a few but expensive articles of jewelry—a watch case, containing a small enameled and jeweled watch and chain, and many other articles in that closely-packed trunk.
But Everet cared for none of these things; he was hunting for, and at last he found, that portfolio over which his father had been so much absorbed, and he seized it with an air of triumph, for he believed it must contain the solution of the secret which of late had caused him many sleepless nights and anxious days.
CHAPTER XXXV.
TWO LETTERS.
The portfolio was not locked, and within it Everet discovered numerous letters, all of which were addressed to “Miss Annie Dale.” Most of them were in ladies’ handwriting, and a glance sufficed to show that they were from schoolmates and girlish friends.
There were also several essays, which had evidently been written by Annie herself, when she was at school, and these were carefully tied together with a narrow and faded blue ribbon. A package of little billets contained locks of hair of various colors and shades, fancifully braided and glued to the paper, each with the name of the donor written underneath. There were a few drawings, very neatly done, some of landscapes, others of flowers, ferns, and grasses, and one that brought a startled cry from Everet Mapleson’s lips, for it was a faithful representation of that very house in the mining village of New Mexico, that he had visited only a few weeks since. The same hand had done this that had drawn the others, there could be no doubt, even if the initials “A. D.” at the bottom had not testified to the fact.
“‘A. D.,’” murmured the young man. “The puzzle is slowly unweaving itself. This trunk must have been brought here after she died; but by whom?”
His face was very grave and troubled, for disagreeable thoughts and suspicions came crowding thick and fast upon him.
He put the drawings carefully back into the pocket from which he had taken them, and then continued his examination of the portfolio. But he found nothing in the other pockets, save a goodly supply of stationery, and he finally came to the conclusion that if there had been any papers of importance in the receptacle they had probably been removed by his father that very day.
He began listlessly turning over the blotting leaves that were attached to the middle of the portfolio; there was now and then a half sheet of paper between them, but nothing else, until he came to the last two, when a scrap of paper with some writing upon it in a bold, masculine hand, fell fluttering to the floor.