"
"What letters?" she asked, looking me in the eyes with the most
innocent of expressions. She made a mistake to do that, for I knew her
innocence must be feigned, and so didn't put much faith in her face
for the rest of the interview.
"And what is more," I continued, with a firmness of manner about as
genuine as her innocence, "unless you will produce them at once, I
shall have to search you."
"Mr. Gordon!" she exclaimed, but she put such surprise and grief and
disbelief into the four syllables that I wanted the earth to swallow
me then and there.
"Why, Miss Cullen," I cried, "look at my position. I'm being paid to
do certain things, and--"
"But that needn't prevent your being a gentleman," she interrupted.
That made me almost desperate. "Miss Cullen," I groaned, hurriedly,
"I'd rather be burned alive than do what I've got to, but if you won't
give me those letters, search you I must."
"But how can I give you what I haven't?" she cried, indignantly,
assuming again her innocent expression.
"Will you give me your word of honor that those letters are not
concealed in your clothes?"
"I will," she answered.
I was very much taken aback, for it would have been so easy for Miss
Cullen to have said so before that I had become convinced she must
have them.
"And do you give me your word?"
"I do," she affirmed, but she didn't look me in the face as she said
it.
I ought to have been satisfied, but I wasn't, for, in spite of her
denial, something forced me still to believe she had them, and looking
back now, I think it was her manner.
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