"In itself, no. But these curious losses are always of consequence in another sense of the word. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Penn: did you speak?"
For Mrs. Penn, who first stood back in her surprise, had advanced behind him, and was saying something in a low tone.
"Mr. Chandos! reply upon it, the same hand that opened my letter has taken this one. You ought not to leave a stone unturned to discover the culprit. I speak in the interest of all."
Mr. Chandos nodded grave assent. He seemed to be in a hopeless puzzle. I fully suspected Lizzy Dene; and I think she saw something of this in my face.
"What should I do with a letter that was not mine?" she cried, her tone resentful, and addressing no one in particular. "If Mr. Chandos offered me a dozen of his letters to read, I'd rather be spared the trouble; I am no great scholar. And what good would they do me?"
The argument seemed all conclusive; at least to Mr. Chandos. I suspected the girl more and more.
"Well, Harry, I must leave you to your investigation, if I am to have a walk this afternoon," concluded Mrs. Chandos.
She went out and turned down the broad walk. Lizzy resumed her work in the dining-room, I and Mr. Dexter went back to the oak-parlour and stood at the window: and then I became aware that Mrs. Penn had lingered in the portico, talking with Mr. Chandos.
"Until recently I believed we had the most trustworthy set of servants that it is possible for any family to have," he was saying. "What can there be in my letters that should interest them?"
"Nay," said Mrs. Penn, "I think it is the greater wonder what there should be in mine. I am a stranger to your servants: my affairs cannot be supposed to concern any one of them."