table, assorting them in groups, like with like.

There were the printed formal warrants, variously signed and attested,
of some assignments or transfers--things of no interest or moment. Put
them by! There were one or two new sheets covered with a child's printed
efforts towards a handwriting manifestly the same as the one recently
under discussion, even without the signature, "dAve wARdLe." There was a
substantial accumulation of folded missives in an educated man's hand,
and another in a woman's; of which last the outermost--being a folded
sheet that made its own envelope--showed a receipt postmark "Macquarie.
June 24, 1807," and a less visible despatch-stamp "Darenth. Nov. 30,
1806," telling its tale of over six months on the road. Then one,
directed in another hand, a man's, but with the same postmarks, both of
1808, with the months undecipherable. This last seemed the most
important, being tied with tape. It was the elder Daverill's successful
forgery, treasured by old Maisie as the last letter from her family in
England, telling of her sister Phoebe's death. All the letters were
addressed to "Mrs. Thornton Daverill," the directions being only partly
visible, owing to the folding.

Lest the reader should be inclined to blame the accidental possessor of
these letters for doing what this story must perforce put on record, and
to say that his action disgraced the Earldom of Ancester, let it remind
him what the facts were that were already in his lordship's possession,
and ask him whether he himself, so circumstanced, might not have felt
as the Earl did--that the case was one for a sacrifice of punctilios in
the face of the issues that turned upon their maintenance. Had he any
right to connive at the procrastination of some wicked secret--for he
had the clue--when a trivial sacrifice of self-respect might bring it to
light? He could see that Mrs. Prichard _must_ be the twin sister,
somehow. But he did not see how, as yet; and he wanted confirmation and
elucidation. These letters would contain both, or correction and
guidance. Was he to bewilder Gwen with his own partial insights, or take
on himself to sift the grist clean before he milled it for her
consumption? He was not long in deciding.

Two or three slippered turns up and down the room, very cautious lest
they should wake her ladyship in the adjoining one, were all the case
required. Then he resumed his seat, and, deliberately taking up the
taped letter, opene