They refer to private affairs of Mr.Winterfield, in which he is deeply interested, and they ought to have been long since placed in his possession.I need hardly say that I consider myself bound to preserve the strictest silence as to what I have read.An envelope, containing some blank sheets of paper, was put back in the boy's waistcoat, so that he might feel it in its place under the lining, when he woke.The original envelope and inclosures (with a statement of circumstances signed by my assistant and myself) have been secured under another cover, sealed with my own seal.I have done my best to discover Mr.Bernard Winterfield.He appears not to live in London.At least I failed to find his name in the Directory.I wrote next, mentioning what had happened, to the English gentleman to whom I send reports of the lad's health.
He couldn't help me.A second letter to the French ladies only produced the same result.I own I should be glad to get rid of my responsibility on honorable terms."All this was said in the boy's presence.He lay listening to it as if it had been a story told of some one else.I could not resist the useless desire to question him.Not speaking French myself (although I can read the language), I asked Doctor Wybrow and his friend to interpret for me.
My questions led to nothing.The French boy knew no more about the stolen envelope than I did.
There was no discoverable motive, mind, for suspecting him of imposing on us.When I said, "Perhaps you stole it?" he answered quite composedly, "Very likely; they tell me I have been mad; Idon't remember it myself; but mad people do strange things." Itried him again."Or, perhaps, you took it away out of mischief?""Yes." "And you broke the seal, and looked at the papers?" "Idare say." "And then you kept them hidden, thinking they might be of some use to you? Or perhaps feeling ashamed of what you had done, and meaning to restore them if you got the opportunity?""You know best, sir." The same result followed when we tried to find out where he had been, and what people had taken care of him, during his last vagrant escape from home.It was a new revelation to him that he had been anywhere.With evident interest, he applied to us to tell him where he had wandered to, and what people he had seen!
So our last attempts at enlightenment ended.We came to the final question of how to place the papers, with the least possible loss of time, in Mr.Winterfield's hands.
His absence in Paris having been mentioned, I stated plainly my own position toward him at the present time.
"Mr.Winterfield has made an appointment with me to call at his hotel, on his return to London," I said."I shall probably be the first friend who sees him.If you will trust me with your sealed packet, in consideration of these circumstances, I will give you a formal receipt for it in Doctor Wybrow's presence--and I will add any written pledge that you may require on my part, acting as Mr.Winterfield's representative and friend.Perhaps you would like a reference as well?"He made a courteous reply."A friend of Dr.Wybrow's," he said, "requires no other reference.""Excuse me," I persisted."I had the honor of meeting Doctor Wybrow, for the first time, yesterday.Permit me to refer you to Lord Loring, who has long known me as his spiritual director and friend."This account of myself settled the matter.I drew out the necessary securities--and I have all the papers lying before me on my desk at this moment.
You remember how seals were broken, and impressed again, at the Roman post-office, in the revolutionary days when we were both young men? Thanks to the knowledge then obtained, the extraordinary events which once associated Mr.Winterfield and Miss Eyrecourt are at last plainly revealed to me.Copies of the papers are in my possession, and the originals are sealed again, with the crest of the proprietor of the asylum, as if nothing had happened.I make no attempt to excuse myself.You know our motto:--THE END JUSTIFIES THE MEANS.
I don't propose to make any premature use of the information which I have obtained.The first and foremost necessity, as Ihave already reminded you, is to give Penrose the undisturbed opportunity of completing the conversion of Romayne.During this interval, my copies of the papers are at the disposal of my reverend brethren at headquarters.
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THE STOLEN PAPERS.--(COPIES.)
_Number One.--From Emma Winterfield to Bernard Winterfield._4 Maidwell Buildings, Belhaven.
How shall I address you? Dear Bernard, or Sir? It doesn't matter.
I am going to do one of the few good actions of my life: and familiarities or formalities matter nothing to a woman who lies on her deathbed.
Yes--I have met with another accident.Shortly after the date of our separation, you heard, I think, of the fall in the circus that fractured my skull? On that occasion, a surgical operation, and a bit of silver plate in place of the bone, put me right again.This time it has been the kick of a horse, in the stables.
Some internal injury is the consequence.I may die to-morrow, or live till next week.Anyway--the doctor has confessed it--my time has come.
Mind one thing.The drink--that vile habit which lost me your love and banished me from your house--the drink is not to blame for this last misfortune.Only the day before it happened I had taken the pledge, under persuasion of the good rector here, the Reverend Mr.Fennick.It is he who has brought me to make this confession, and who takes it down in writing at my bedside.Do you remember how I once hated the very name of a parson--and when you proposed, in joke, to marry me before the registrar, how Itook it in downright earnest, and kept you to your word? We poor horse-riders and acrobats only knew clergymen as the worst enemies we had--always using their influence to keep the people out of our show, and the bread out of our mouths.If I had met with Mr.Fennick in my younger days, what a different woman Imight have been!
