Meanwhile, Mr. Stafford stood at the window deep in unpleasant thoughts, from which the entrance of the butler, who came to summon him to breakfast, first aroused him. "Stay a moment, Marcus!" he said, turning, as the man prepared to leave the room after doing his errand. "I want to ask you a question. Did you make up the messenger's bag last evening?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you notice a letter addressed to the Times office?"
The servant prepared himself to cogitate. But he found it unnecessary. "Yes, sir," he replied. "Two."
"Two?" Mr. Stafford repeated, dismay in his tone; though this was just what he had reason to expect.
"Yes, sir. There was one I took from the hand-box, and one Mr. Atlay gave me in the hall at the last moment," the butler explained.
"That will do. Thank you. Ask Mr. Atlay if he will come to me. No doubt he will be able to tell me what I want to know."
The words were commonplace, but the speaker's anxiety was so plain that Marcus when he delivered the message--which he did with haste--added a word or two of warning.
"It is about a letter to the Times, sir, I think. Mr. Stafford seems a good deal put out," he said, confidentially.
"Indeed?" Atlay replied. "I will go down." And he started. But before he reached the library he met some one. Lady Betty looked out of the breakfast-room, and saw him descending the stairs with the butler behind him.