"Pardon me, Sir Arthur," replied Norries; "I never told you any such thing. My partner did, but he lied in this case as in many others, and I, who knew little of the transaction at the time, found the papers after his death, and have them safe in my possession." There was some writing paper lying on the table, clean and unsullied; but without knowing what he did, Sir Arthur Adelon took it in his hands, and in two minutes it was twisted into every conceivable shape. Norries gazed at him with the slightest possible smile; and in the end he said, "I am afraid, Sir Arthur, that paper will not be very serviceable; however, we can get more." "Paha!" cried Sir Arthur Adelon; "let us think of serious things, Mr. Norries. Those letters must be destroyed. Do you mean to say they were all preserved?" "Every one," answered Norries; "nay, more. I have spoken of eight and of six years ago, but amongst the documents there are several of a much earlier period, which show that the schemes then executed had been long devising, that the purpose then accomplished had been long nourished. The motives, too, are very evident from certain passages; and I now tell you, Sir Arthur Adelon, that if I had been made aware of the facts--of the whole facts--those schemes would never have been accomplished, that purpose would have been frustrated." And he gazed sternly at the baronet, setting his teeth hard. "My partner, Mr. Sherborne," continued Norries, after a pause, during which his companion uttered not a word, but remained with his eyes bent down, and his teeth gnawing his nether lip; "my partner, Mr. Sherborne, was a great scoundrel, as you know, Sir Arthur. In fact, you knew it at the time you employed him." "No, sir, I did not," exclaimed Sir Arthur, catching at the last word. "Yes, Sir Arthur, you did," replied Norries, firmly; "or you never would have employed him in so rascally a business." "He suggested to me everything that was done," replied the baronet, eagerly. "In consequence of a private conversation, of which he made a note," rejoined Norries, "and of a letter, still preserved, so confirmatory of the memorandum, that there can be no doubt of its accuracy." The face of Sir Arthur Adelon flushed. He was a man of one sort of courage, and he replied, haughtily, "I think you intend to insult me, sir. Beware what you are doing." "I am quite aware," answered Norries, slowly inclining his head; "neither do I intend at all to insult you, Sir Arthur. I speak truth in plain terms, having learned in sorrow and adversity that such is the only right course to pursue. In justice and in good faith I ought to place the whole of those papers in the hands of a gentleman nearly related to that Mr. Dudley--his son, I mean."