The husband, who all this while had been a prey to intensely painful emotion, then desired his wife to leave us alone, saying that he would manage me; and, after considerable hesitation, she did so. As she left the room I thought I could distinctly trace, in the lines of that pretty countenance, the external signs of a mind racked with the agony of crime. When she had left, I took a chair, and Mr. Green did the same. "This letter, sir," I said, "may be an ordinary one, containing nothing that can affect the unfortunate prisoner's case; and if so I shall be perfectly prepared to hand it over to you at once; but I shall now ask, if you please, as a matter of courtesy, to permit me to read it." "A letter of my wife's, sir!" "Yes, a letter of your wife's; and I can promise you no secrecy about its contents until I know what they are. If these contents be not essential to the interests of the prisoner, and do not call for its use, whatever be the secret this letter embodies, no living soul will get the least idea of that secret from me. If, on the other hand, it will furnish a material link in the evidence of that unfortunate girl's innocence, no considerations, no regard to the position, circumstances, or happiness of you, will induce me to abstain from using it in a way to secure her liberation." "I think you should let me read it first," said the husband, in terror. "You must allow me to reverse the order of perusal. _I_ must read it first." Mr. Green rose and paced the room. I sat musing, and observing him. At last he turned, and said, "I know I can rely upon your judgment sir." He sat down beside me. I read the letter in tones loud enough for him to hear, but let no sentence or word of it pass through the keyhole of that drawing-room door.