“‘Mr. Bowles, don’t you know that you were living with Miss Victoria Totten, a young girl whom you had induced to elope with you?’
“‘No, I do not.’
“‘We have got him safe in the trap at last,’ said Lottie, in a whisper, as she put her mouth close to my ear.
“I remembered the time when that identical scamp insulted her, when she was a helpless orphan child, and how he swore a lie against Harry. Then I thought of the old adages: ‘Chickens will come home to roost,’—‘Every dog will have his day,’ etc. Lottie was having her revenge now; though she was not actuated by any feeling of that sort—but she was working to save her friend.
“She took a letter from her satchel, and after carefully removing it from the envelope handed the latter to Mr. Bowles.
“‘Is that your handwriting, Mr. Bowles?’
“He first held the paper close to his eyes, then at arm’s length; he next twisted himself round, as if he wanted some light, and wiped his brow hurriedly.
“‘I can’t say—that is, I think—er—er—I was not certain—ahem! I was under the—well, the writing looks a little like mine, though I can’t say I wrote it.’
“‘Can you swear that you did not write it?’
“‘I—I—I—that is, I don’t know—I don’t think I did!’