Lord Beachcombe took it up, and slowly unfolding it, read it carefully, and then looked up with a smile of triumph, that struck a sudden chill to Prue’s heart. From his breast he drew a letter addressed to "The Right Honorable Lord Beachcombe. At Rodney House, Saint James’ Park, London," and placing the two papers side by side, contemplated them with vindictive satisfaction. "There can be no further doubt," he said. "See for yourself, Viscountess, the writing is identical." She looked, and had some difficulty in maintaining her indifference. Furious at herself for having given Beachcombe an opportunity to confirm his suspicions, she had just enough self-command left to see that it was a case of _qui s’excuse s’accuse_, and that any attempt at explanation would only plunge her into an inextricable tangle of falsehood. So she merely remarked, in as casual a tone as she could assume, "La me! how curious!" and stretched out her hand for her own document. Beachcombe withheld it. "Pray permit me to retain this, Lady Prudence," he entreated. "It is an important piece of evidence." "More important to me than to your lordship!" she retorted sharply. "Be good enough to return it to me!" and as he still hesitated, she snatched it from his grasp, exclaiming with an angry laugh, "Evidently the liking for other people’s ’private papers’ runs in the blood of the De Cliffes." With a savage scowl, Lord Beachcombe half-rose from his seat. But Prue had already recovered from her spurt of passion, and with the prettiest deprecating gesture and the most alluring smile she could call up at a moment’s notice, she stemmed the tide of his wrath. "Oh! forgive me, Lord Beachcombe," she said sweetly. "I am not used to be so cross-questioned and my temper, as you know well, is none of the most patient. Do not let us quarrel over such a trifle as a fancied resemblance between two scraps of writing." "’Tis no fancied resemblance, Lady Prudence, said Beachcombe doggedly. "Then if it is a real one, would it not be better for us to see how we can turn it to our mutual advantage, than to wrangle over it?" she suggested. Beachcombe’s brow cleared at her conciliatory tone, and his half-awakened suspicions melted under the influence of a sweet and beaming smile. "There is nothing easier than to turn it to our advantage and his destruction, dear Viscountess, if you will be guided by me," he said eagerly. "If Captain Freemantle should make another attempt to see you—as I feel convinced he will—surely woman’s wit can manage to bring us face to face, or at least to let me know where he is to be found. I am convinced that I could show him excellent reasons for giving up those papers, which would prove dangerously compromising—to him—if discovered in his possession. You could secure yourself from further molestation and promote the ends of justice in this way, and place me under a lifelong obligation."