J. J. Bell

“ Don't misunderstand me, Joan. I regret nothing except that I should have caused the old man suffering. At the time—I hope you can believe this—I did not dream in my haste that he would be deeply affected by my action. Uncle Rufus was never anything but just; but I cannot remember his ever showing much feeling. Latterly his books—”
“He changed during the last two years of his life. But please, don't fancy that I have ever judged you, even in my thoughts. From the very first I have felt certain you were shielding another person.”
Douglas made a slight gesture of distress. ”

“ Joan exclaimed, shutting the drawer with a bang. “One can have too much formality.” She came over with the yellow envelope, extracted the white one and presented it to Grant. “Here it is, Douglas, just as your uncle gave it to me, and I hope—” She stopped short.
Miss Gosling was on her feet, staring, nay, glaring, at the packet now in Grant's hand.
“What on earth is the matter, Aunt Griselda?”
“I'm afraid—I'm afraid you'll never forgive me. But I have got to tell you. Don't open it just yet, Mr. Grant. May I have it in my hand for a moment?” ”

“ Let us go at once to the laboratory!”
“It all sounds rather suggestive, but I seem to remember,” said Grant, “that the laboratory had a cement floor—not stone.”
“So it has,” she admitted, crestfallen.
“We must presume,” said Miss Gosling, “that the person who, thanks to my folly, managed to open your letter took a copy of that paper; and we may imagine that he took it in order to complete information he already possessed.”
“Aunt Griselda,” cried the girl, “you are clever!”
“I'm an old fool, but I sometimes see the likely side. When were you last in the laboratory, Joan?” ”