The Bond of Secrecy.
I held the small brass stamp towards her, inviting her to examine it, but she shrank back with an expression of terror and repulsion, refusing to touch it.
“Have you ever seen Dudley with this in his hand?” I asked, repeating my question seriously, determined upon learning the truth.
“Where did you find it?” she inquired, a look of bewilderment upon her haggard face.
“You have not answered my question, Ella,” I said sternly.
“Your question? Ah!” she cried, as if in sudden remembrance of my words. “I—I have never seen Dudley with it. I—I swear I haven’t.”
“Is that the absolute truth?” I asked in doubt.
“The truth!” she echoed. “Did I not, a moment ago, promise you I would never again deceive you by word or action? Can you never have confidence in me?” she asked, in a tone of mingled regret and reproach.
“But this was found in Dudley’s possession,” I said, holding it nearer my gaze, and detecting in the bright sunlight streaming through the window small portions of black wax still adhering to the cleverly-cut coat of arms. Black wax, I remembered, had been used to secure the dummy envelope.
“And even if that were so, is it such a very remarkable fact that a man should carry a seal?” she asked suddenly, raising her brows and assuming a well-feigned air of surprise. At that instant it occurred to me that she was an adept in preserving a mystery; she could practice deception with a verisimilitude little short of marvellous.