Page:Once a Week Jan - Jun 1871.pdf/157

144 "Take a cab, and go and search the box. And now let us look to these letters."

The dates of the papers found in the parcel—during the reading of which César Negretti turned visibly more pale, and exhibited more distress—extended over some six months. The first in order was a rough draught of a letter to Mr. Edgar Wade, barrister, of the Temple, in which the writer acquainted that gentleman that he knew something which would, if examined and acted upon, turn to his advantage. It was purposely worded in a wide and indefinite manner, and seemed to have elicited a careful answer from the barrister. This answer did not occur; but there was another rough draft of a reply to the letter, in which the writer stated that, in overlooking some letters of his (the writer's) father—who was Gustave, formerly valet to Lord Chesterton—he had discovered the secret of Edgar Wade's birth.

A third letter—and the little bundle of MSS. had been carefully and consecutively arranged, and had been preserved as being of some value—was from Mr. Edgar Wade himself. He wished the informant would call upon him: such matters as he could communicate had better be spoken than written. He appointed a certain evening, and wished that the writer of the letters would bring with him proofs of the authenticity of his information.

A fourth letter—again from Edgar Wade—complained that the appointment had not been kept, and asked—evidently in answer to some hints upon the subject of remuneration—what amount of money would be demanded, presuming the information supplied should turn out to be of use in placing the writer, Mr. Edgar Wade, in possession of his rights?

Mr. Horton looked significantly at Mr. Tom Forster as he read these letters. That gentleman fidgeted with his spectacles, examined the writing of his friend with coolness and minuteness, and was evidently troubled. The letters were quite genuine; and as each succeeding one strengthened the revelations so unpleasant to Mr. Forster's feelings, so his examination became more slow and methodical.

It would seem to have been Negretti's purpose to keep away as long as he could from a personal interview with the barrister. Some more brief notes of a letter next occurred, in which were found the names of Gustave, Madame Martin—with her address at Acacia Villa—and Lord Chesterton. Lord Wimpole, in whose service the writer had been, was also mentioned; and the secret to be confided was held up as of the greatest importance and value.

There was no answer to this. Edgar Wade, it would appear, had sought out and found his informant; and, from notes of conversations, a large sum of money seemed to have been asked, and to have been agreed upon, as a reward to be paid upon Edgar Wade making his claim perfect. There were instructions, evidently taken from the barrister's lips, as to getting papers in the possession of Lord Wimpole or Madame Martin.

As Mr. Tom Forster read these, his heart sank within him. He turned pale, felt sick at heart, and sat down, polishing his eye glasses with his bandanna pocket-handkerchief.

"This case assumes a very serious aspect," said the magistrate, looking at him. "I am afraid, Mr. Forster, that your accumulation of proofs in regard to Lord Wimpole have misled us."

"The proofs were all right, sir," returned Old Daylight, in a mild voice; "but I am afraid they have led us to the wrong person."

"I see no reason why his lordship should not be released on his own recognizances," said the magistrate, making out an order to that effect, and directing it to Captain Chesman. "Perhaps Inspector Stevenson will see to this!"

He handed the paper to Stevenson, who took it gloomily. "Here was a go," he said to himself; "Old Daylight was actually breaking down! What next? When would the right party turn up?"

"No," observed Old Forster, after a pause, "your worship was right in your unwillingness to make that arrest. There are yet more papers—possibly, in that man's box. Have you any more letters like or similar to these?"

César's pale lips moved faintly with the reply of—

"Si, signor."

"Most of these notes are in your writing, I presume. We can prove that, even if you deny it. I want you to be cautious about what you say. It is evident that you know much about matters antecedent to the murder of this poor woman—"

Again a low, hissing sound of "Si,