Poor Lady Sandgate gaped but the more—she wondered and yearned. "Definitely priceless?"
"Definitely priceless." After which he took from its place of lurking, considerately unfolding it, the goodly slip he had removed from her blotting-book. "Worth even more therefore than what Bender so blatantly offers."
Her attention fell with interest, from the distance at which she stood, on this confirmatory document, her recognition of which was not immediate. "And is that the affidavit?"
"This is a cheque to your order, my lady, for ten thousand pounds."
"Ten thousand?"—she echoed it with a shout.
"Drawn by some hand unknown," he went on quietly.
"Unknown?"—again, in her muffled joy, she let it sound out.
"Which I found there at your desk a moment ago, and thought best, in your interest, to rescue from accident or neglect; even though it be, save for the single stroke of a name begun," he wound up with his look like a playing searchlight, "unhappily unsigned."
