nswers which only tended to show that she could not
have brought the confession with her, much less received it from a
secret messenger. Unless we doubted Mrs. Belden's word, the mystery
seemed impenetrable, and I was beginning to despair of success, when Mr.
Gryce, with an askance look at me, leaned towards Mrs. Belden and said:

"You received a letter from Miss Mary Leavenworth yesterday, I hear."

"Yes, sir."

"_This_ letter?" he continued, showing it to her.

"Yes, sir."

"Now I want to ask you a question. Was the letter, as you see it, the
only contents of the envelope in which it came? Wasn't there one for
Hannah enclosed with it?"

"No, sir. There was nothing in my letter for her; but she had a letter
herself yesterday. It came in the same mail with mine."

"Hannah had a letter!" we both exclaimed; "and in the mail?"

"Yes; but it was not directed to her. It was"--casting me a look full of
despair, "directed to me. It was only by a certain mark in the corner of
the envelope that I knew----"

"Good heaven!" I interrupted; "where is this letter? Why didn't you
speak of it before? What do you mean by allowing us to flounder about
here in the dark, when a glimpse at this letter might have set us right
at once?"

"I didn't think anything about it till this minute. I didn't know it was
of importance. I----"

But I couldn't restrain myself. "Mrs. Belden, where is this letter?" I
demanded. "Have you got it?"

"No," said she; "I gave it to the girl yesterday; I haven't seen it
since."

"It must be upstairs, then. Let us take another look." and I hastened
towards the door.

"You won't find it," said Mr. Gryce at my elbow. "I have looked. There
is nothing but a pile of burned paper in the corner. By the way, what
could that have been?" he asked of Mrs. Belden.

"I don't know, sir. She hadn't anything to burn unless it was the
letter."

"We will see about that," I muttered, hurrying upstairs and bringing
down the wash-bowl with its contents. "If the letter was the one I saw
in your hand at the post-office, it was in a yellow envelope."

"Yes, sir."

"Yellow envelopes burn differently from white paper. I ought to be able
to tell the tinder made by a yellow envelope when I see it. Ah, the
letter has been destroyed; here is a piece of the envelope," and I drew
out of the heap of charred scraps a small bit less burnt than the rest,
and held it up.

"Then there is no use looking here for what the letter