"It seems very interesting, love," said he, lifting his head and turning to where I stood wringing my hands in silent rage and anguish; "but it's rather long; I'll look at it some other time;—and meanwhile, I'll trouble you for your keys, my dear."
"What keys?"
"The keys of your cabinet, desk, drawers, and whatever else you possess," said he, rising and holding out his hand.
"I've not got them," I replied. The key of my desk, in fact, was, at that moment, in the lock, and the others were attached to it.
"Then you must send for them," said he; "and if that old bitch, Rachel, doesn't immediately deliver them up, she tramps bag and baggage to-morrow."
"She doesn't know where they are," I answered, quietly placing my hand upon them, and taking them from the desk, as I thought, unobserved. "I know, but I shall not give them up without a reason."
