He was provokingly slow in his reply, and his Yankee drawl was more painfully apparent than ever. ‘Young man,’ said he to Edgar, ‘what might have been the nominal value of your uncle’s estate—if he had any?’
‘About thirty or forty thousand pounds.’
‘And I promised, if you would let me see this paper, I would show you something worth ten thousand pounds. Well, you must pardon me for my little mistake. One can’t always guard against mistakes, and this paper is worth four times that amount.’
For a few moments every one was aghast at the value of the discovery.
Edgar was the first to recover himself. ‘You are not joking, Slimm?’ he exclaimed hoarsely.
‘Never a bit,’ he replied with a gaiety delicately intended to cover and arouse the emotion of the others. ‘There it is on the face of the paper, as plainly as possible—the fateful words staring me in the face. You could see them yourselves, if you only knew how.’
‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Felix. ‘And that simple paper contains a secret worth all that money?’
‘Why, certainly. Not only that, but where it is, and the exact spot in which it is concealed. Only to think—a starving, desperate woman dragging such a secret as that about London; and only to think of a single moment preventing it being buried in the Thames. Wonderful, wonderful!’
‘Perhaps you will disclose it to us,’ said Edgar, impatient at this philosophical tirade.
‘No!’ Eleanor put in resolutely—‘no, Edgar! I do not think it would be fair. Considering the time and trouble Mr Carver has given to the matter, it would only be right for him to know at the same time. The dear old gentleman has been so enthusiastic throughout, and so kind, that I should feel disappointed if he did not hear the secret disclosed when we are all together.’