The dark little face lighted with gladness, and Lena murmured, “How good you are! Listen, then! You know my friend, Gracie Hadley?”
“Haven’t the pleasure. Who’s she in America?”
“Well, she’s just Gracie, that’s all. And—sh!”—Lena looked cautiously about, “don’t breathe it, but she’s in love with an English chap who’s over here. And her mother doesn’t approve——”
“I don’t want to tell you, ’cause it’s Gracie’s secret——”
“All right; I don’t want to know anyway. But where do I come in? I hate to hurry you, but I’m assuming I play a part in this tragedy, and I want my cue, for honest to goodness, Lena, I’ve troubles of my own!”
“Yes, I know, Captain, and I won’t be but a minute explaining. Well, Gracie has been corresponding with this man,——”
“Hush! It’s all right; only of course, she doesn’t want her mother to know. Well, she tears up his letters, but—_what_ do you think!”
“No! but the man has given her her letters to him——”
“No; I mean yes,—but for this reason—you fluster me so,—with your snapping up!”
“Well, well, go and tell it in your own way. But, for Heaven’s sake, hurry up!”
“All right. You see he gave her these letters to save for him just while he’s away somewhere, and he wants them when he comes back.”
“Oh! You’re so unfeeling! So—why, you’re _stupid_!”
“Never mind details,—Gracie can’t keep them at home, for fear her mother will find them—she snoops awfully! And—_I_ can’t keep them here,——”
“Yes; exactly! So,—Captain Farnsworth,—nice, dear Captain Farnsworth, won’t you let me hid them in here,—among your things?”
“Goodness! Little One, is that all you want? Sure! Hide them wherever you like in my domain. Your eagle-eyed mother won’t find them in here! But, hold on! Nothing that wouldn’t get by the Censor, is there?”
“Guess I’ll have to have a glimpse of ’em, though. Not to pry into the lovers’ confidences, of course, but because I can’t harbour papers unless I’m satisfied of their contents.”
“All right,—that goes! I’ll get them now;” and running from the room, Lena returned with a small packet of letters tied with blue ribbon.
Farnsworth examined the envelopes, and glanced here and there at the written pages.
“All right,” he said, re-tying the packet, “internal evidence proves conclusively to _my_ mind that these documents are just what you describe them to be. Say we put them in the top drawer of my chiffonier; how’s that?”