"Then--if you don't mind--I will." Inside the envelope were two sheets of large letter paper, closely covered, on all eight sides, with Donald Lindsay's fine handwriting. Robert Spencer had not read far before he broke into exclamation. "What the--I beg your pardon, aunt--I didn't quite--but this is most extraordinary." As he read on, more than once he punctuated his reading with interjectional remarks; evidently what he read occasioned him profound surprise. When he had finished he looked about him as if he was not quite sure where he was. When he perceived Lady Jane he started from his chair in evident perturbation; as good as her word, she had not interrupted him by so much as a movement, and now sat eyeing him grimly. He turned to her with a laugh which did not sound very natural. "Well, aunt, we've done it, you and I, between us!" "Pray attribute nothing to me; I decline to accept any responsibility for your criminal carelessness." "I can only say that while Nora Lindsay has been treated like a fraudulent pauper, turned out of house and home, sent out into the world to earn her bread, she may be starving for all I know; I've left no stone unturned, but I've been able to find no trace of her; all the time the letter has been lying in your desk which shows that she is one of the richest women in England, and I verily believe that her father owed no man anything." "If that is so, Robert, then I don't envy you your feelings when you reflect that Miss Lindsay's sufferings are solely and entirely the result of your own misconduct." "If you had only let me know you had the letter!" "Are you attempting to fasten blame on me? For your monstrous and incredible negligence in doing nothing, and less than nothing, to safeguard a document which you now assert is of such importance!" "Well, what's done's done! And Nora has had her home taken from her, and the things she cared for scattered to the four winds; it's been one of the greatest steals on record! and she's been shamed in the face of all the world, and she may be eating out her heart in some last refuge of the destitute, and all the while---- It's a pretty story, on my word!" "It all comes from your mother and father taking it for granted that the girl was a beggar; I nearly had a serious quarrel with your mother because I told her I shouldn't be surprised if, after all, she was mistaken; but your mother's like her son." "Thank you, aunt; my mother only took for granted what others took for granted. I've heard you say some severe things about Miss Lindsay." "I've simply said that you're not in a position to marry a penniless girl; and you're not."