“Yes.” Lettice spoke so low that she could scarcely be heard. Mr. Baldwin watched her silently, but with an expression of deep sympathy. “Will you tell us whom you suspect?” said her brother, gently. “My little sister is so tender-hearted, gentlemen, that she is loath to divulge the name of the culprit, if indeed she knows it. Suppose we talk it over by ourselves, little sister, if these gentlemen will excuse us.” And putting his arm around her, he led her from the room. When they were alone she put her head down on his shoulder and wept silently. “I don’t want to tell, brother,” she said, when she had become more composed. “I was very angry at first, but I don’t want to get any one into trouble, and of course I have no proof; I only suspect. But one person saw me as I was covering up the box, and--Oh, if I could only get the papers back, would I need to tell?” Her brother considered the question. “Perhaps not. It would depend upon the person. If a dangerous enemy were working us harm, you would want him to be put where he could do us no injury, wouldn’t you?” “If that could be managed? If he should leave the country?” said Lettice, eagerly. “I cannot promise what leniency would be shown; but if you can recover the papers and will tell whom you suspect, I will do my best to see that nothing shall be done without full proof of treachery.” “Then if I can get the papers, and I promise to tell you why they were taken, will that do?” “So far as you are concerned, yes, I think it will. Wait here and I will confer with the general.” But her brother had no sooner left the room than Lettice flew out by the back way, ran to the stable, flung the saddle on her horse, and was off like a shot. She would take no risks. Down the road she galloped, and dashed up before the porch where Rhoda was sitting alone. “Lettice!” cried Rhoda, coming hastily forward, “what are you doing here? Is there no one with you? Have you brought bad news?” Lettice slipped down from her horse, twisted the bridle through the ring of the hitching-post, and ran up the steps. “Are you alone, I ask in turn?” “Yes. What is it? You are so agitated. Has anything happened to--anybody?” Lettice did not heed the eagerness of the question nor the sudden pause before the last word. “I am alone, yes. And something has happened. No, no one is hurt, but some valuable papers have been stolen. Do you know anything about it?” “I? What should I know?” Rhoda drew herself up, and held her head high. “I overheard you talking one day to Mr. Robert Clinton, and you said things which made me suspect that you might try to help the enemy, if you had a chance. And----Oh, Rhoda, never mind if I do seem to accuse you! it is to save Mr. Clinton. If you have any love for him or for me, tell me truly, do you know anything about the papers?” “I know nothing of any papers in which you could possibly be concerned,” she replied coldly. “Tell me your story more clearly.”