The lost clue

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

"Yes; I do hope it is the right one. Will you open it and see?"

He cut the string which she had knotted tightly round it: he drew out the paper; he saw his father's well-known irregular handwriting.

Yes, it was evidently the letter which he ought to have found in that envelope in the safe, the envelope of which was still in his possession, and which was addressed, "For my son, To be opened after my death."

"Is it the right one?"

"Yes, it is, Miss Douglas. How can I thank you?"

"May I tell you how I found it? And then I must go."

She knew how he was longing to read the letter, and she thought that he would want to read it alone. Her one desire was to tell him how it had come into her possession, and then to leave him. But he would not hear of her doing this; he made her sit down again, and, before she could stop him, he rang the bell for Mrs. Hall, and told her to bring another cup, that she might have some tea before she left.

Then Marjorie told him her story as shortly as she could. She spoke of old Mrs. Hotchkiss's unhappiness during her illness; she told him of her midnight call to the old house, and of the secret that had then been told her. She described the place in which she had discovered the box; she confessed that she had broken the seals and opened it, that she might see the name at the end of the letter, and might know whether Mr. Forty Screws and Mr. Fortescue were the same. And now she said, as she got up from her chair again, she was thankful, very glad and thankful that it was safely in his hands, and she must go; she really must go. She knew how he was longing to read it, and she would not keep him another moment.

"Miss Douglas," said Captain Fortescue, "I am not going to allow you to leave until you've had some tea, and then I am going with you to the station. But if you are sure you do not mind, I will just read the letter, and then I shall be able to tell you what it is about, and for what I have to thank you."

When she saw that it was of no use to protest any further, she sat down again by the fire, and he took a chair to the table, and by the dim light of the solitary gas-burner sat down to read the letter. She glanced at him from time to time as he bent over it, wondering as she did so what its contents might be, looking anxiously to see the effect upon him as he read. Every vestige of colour had faded out of his face, but he read on intently, and without once looking up. Marjorie could hear the clock in the passage ticking loudly, but no other sound disturbed the stillness of the room. He did not speak a word, nor utter a sound, till he turned to the last page, and then he gave a loud exclamation of dismay.