Englehart had done the night
before in his presence, I was infinitely amused.
What, then, was my surprise in stooping over it to find this letter
addressed to myself in the unfamiliar yet never-to-be-forgotten
character of Wardour Wentworth!
After the first moment of bewilderment I opened the already-fastened
letter--closed, as was the fashion of the day, without envelope, and
sealed originally with wax, of which a few fragments still remained
alone.
The date, the subject, the earnest contents, convinced me that I now
held the clew of that mystery which had baffled me so long, and that the
missing letter said to have been lost at Le Noir's Landing was at last
in my possession. It needed not this additional proof of treachery to
convince me that my suspicions had been correct, and that, next to the
arch-fiend. Bainrothe, I owed the greatest misery of my life to him who,
in his ill-adjusted disguise, had dropped this letter from his pocket on
the preceding evening--my evil genius, Dr. Englehart--_alias_ Luke
Gregory.
It was a gracious thing in God to permit me to owe the great happiness
of this discovery to the little crippled child he had cast upon my care
so mysteriously, and I failed not to render to him with other grateful
acknowledgments "most humble and hearty thanks" for this crowning grace.
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