"What of the Black Box?" I said, looking as wise as any parrot.
I had expected that my father's answer to this question would be short and sharp--indeed, perhaps nothing save a scornful laugh; but, to my great astonishment, he dropped back straight into his chair and stared at me like one possessed, while his breath came thick and fast, as though he had suffered some great shock.
"What do you know of that?" he gasped at last.
"Nothing, father," I answered carelessly by way of calming him, for knowing that he suffered from a weakness of the heart I was afraid lest harm should come to him. "Nothing, that is, beyond what others know. Indeed, I thought 'twas common knowledge."
"Common knowledge!" echoed my father with a fearful start. "What do you mean?"
"Why, the report that there is somewhere written proof of Charles's marriage. Is it not common knowledge? I remember hearing of it when I was a boy at school."
"Yes, yes; but the box in which 'twas said to have been hidden! What do you know of that?"
He put this question with a feverish eagerness and then gazed at me searchingly, if indeed not suspiciously.
"Nothing," I answered firmly; "absolutely nothing."
On hearing this my father heaved a sigh of deep relief, and for a space stared at me in a far-off, wondering manner, as though he were scarce certain of my presence; then, leaning slowly forward on the table, he said: