‘That might be inspired by caution. Do you observe what he says about Madame D—— and her anxiety to hear of the child’s welfare? Rely upon it that Madame D—— was the mother. Then there is the mention of a happy union with the woman he loves, deferred until the death of some wealthy relation. Then what do you make of the lines in which he avows his obligation to provide for “your small charge”? That small charge was the child, and on whom would there be such an obligation except upon the father? This is how I have sometimes been inclined to read the riddle.’ ‘You think, then, that Lucille was the child of some secret marriage?’ said Lucius; ‘or of an intrigue?’ he added reluctantly. ‘Of a secret marriage most likely,’ answered the old man. ‘Had it been only an intrigue, there would hardly have been need for such excessive caution. You will see in one of the later letters how this man who signs himself “H. G.” speaks of his total ruin should his secret be discovered. But go on, the letters are numbered. I arranged and numbered them with a good deal of care. Go on to number 2.’ Lucius obeyed. The second epistle was in the same hand as the first, but the formation of the characters showed that it had been written in haste and profound agitation: ‘Dear Sivewright,—I enclose a cheque for 50_l._ It leaves me a beggar; but anything is better than the alternative. Your threat to trade upon my secret has thrown me into an agony of apprehension. O, Sivewright, you could surely never be such a villain! You who pretended to be my bosom friend—you who have so often enriched yourself at my expense, when fortune and your superior skill favoured your chances at the card-table—could never be so base as to betray me! When you took upon yourself the charge which you now assert perpetually as a claim, pressing and harassing me to death with your demands for money, I deemed that friendship alone actuated you. Is it possible that you looked at the matter from the first with a trader’s spirit, and only considered how much you might be able to make out of me? ‘As you claim to be a gentleman, I conjure you to write and assure me that your threat of communicating with my uncle was only an idle menace; that you will keep my secret, as a gentleman should keep the secret of his friend. ‘Bear in mind that to betray me would be to ruin me most completely, and to destroy your own chance of future benefit from my fortune. ‘How is the little girl? Why do you not write to me at length about her? Why do your letters contain only demands for money? Madame D—— is full of anxiety, and I can say so little to satisfy her. How is the little thing? Is she well—is she happy? Does she pine for her last home, and the people who nursed her? For heaven’s sake reply, and fully.—Yours, H. G.’ ‘Are those like a man’s inquiries about another man’s child?’ asked Mr. Sivewright.