‘He can’t know that.’ ‘He does know it. He is not a fool; besides, he said as much. If you had done as I counselled, I should have replaced the paper quietly; and if he had suspected, he could have said nothing.’ ‘You always think you are right, and I am wrong,’ growled Belassis. ‘Possibly,’ answered the wife; and then, fixing her eye keenly upon him, she asked: ‘And pray, what is Whitbury? and who is Miss Marjory Descartes?’ Belassis’ face turned livid; but he answered with a sudden blaze of anger: ‘How the devil should I know? I never heard of either one or the other before to-night.’ He flung himself passionately from the room, and Mrs. Belassis sat quite still in the twilight. ‘He is trying to keep a secret from me. What a fool he is!’ CHAPTER IV. WILD OATS. ‘Here, Maud—here is old Uncle Maynard’s letter, if you want to read it!’ So said Tor, as he entered the drawing-room, after his visit to Thornton House; and Maud started up with an exclamation of pleasure at seeing him again so soon. When she took in the drift of his remark, her eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘The letter, Phil? Had Aunt Celia got it, then?’ ‘Yes; she had _borrowed_ it to show to her precious husband. She found it amongst my writing-paper, she says.’ ‘That’s a lie,’ said Maud, with the frankness of her nature; ‘for I tidied out that drawer the day you went to Whitbury.’ ‘And I left the paper locked up that same day,’ added Tor, smiling. ‘Aunt Celia must have a vivid imagination.’ ‘Did you tell her she was lying?’ asked Maud eagerly. ‘I mean, did you say that it was in the locked drawer?’ ‘There was no need to say very much. Mrs. Belassis is not dense. She quite understood me. It is better to avoid saying disagreeable things, when meaning them does as well.’ ‘I always want to say them,’ answered Maud candidly. ‘But isn’t she dreadful? She must have a duplicate key of your table. Do you think she has taken anything else?’ ‘I shall look and see to-morrow. I don’t think there is anything in that table that she would care to possess. What beats me, is the motive for taking that letter. It is disagreeable enough, but of no value. Read it, Maud, and see if you can find out anything which could explain her deed.’ Maud obeyed. After reading a little way she became so much amused that she turned again to the beginning, and read it out aloud, so that Aunt Olive might have the benefit of the joke. She enjoyed vastly the old man’s misanthropic utterances, and her comments as she read amused the listeners as much as did the letter itself.