"He has secured other letters, incriminating a Mr. Sheard, of the staff of the Gleaner; Sir Richard Haredale, of the —— Guards; Miss Zoe Oppner; and ... well—you know the worst—my niece, again!" The inspector drew a long, deep breath.
"Next to Victor Lemage, who's also an accomplice," he said admiringly, "I don't mind admitting that Harley is the smartest man in the business. But in justice to us, sir, you must remember that our hands are tied. A C.I.D. man isn't allowed to do what Harley can do."
"I grant it, inspector. Now, having given you my confidence, I rely upon you to work with me—not against me."
"I am with you entirely, sir. May I have those letters?"
Mr. Belford hesitated.
"It is surely inconsistent with your duty to keep them private?"
"What about the one in my pocket, sir? That alone is sufficient, if I wanted to make a scandal. No; I give you my word that no other eye shall see them."
The Home Secretary shrugged his shoulders, and taking up the bundle from which already he had selected Séverac Bablon's three communications, he placed it in the detective's hands.
"I rely upon you to keep certain names out of the affair."
"I give you my word that they shall never be mentioned in connection with it. You have taken the only course which could ensure that, sir. May I see the photographs?"