remained. The first of these was long and empty looking and gave evidence that the flap had been rudely, if not hastily, torn open. Searle held it in his hand now.
Hampstead's heart stood still; he knew that this must be the envelope which had contained the Wadham currency, hence between this attorney's thumb and forefinger, screened by one thickness of paper, lay the card that was the clue to Rollie Burbeck's crime. But the moment of suspense passed.
Submitting it to the same inquisitive finger manipulation as the others, yet not looking within it nor turning it over to read what might be written on the face, Searle laid the Wadham envelope on the pile of discards.
"Thank God," gulped Hampstead, yet with utterance so inchoate that Hayes, the third bondsman, standing nearest, did not catch the words, but a few minutes later, discussing the matter with Wilson, said: "I heard the apprehensive rattle in his throat just before Searle came to that last envelope."
But in the meantime, Hampstead was asking himself suspiciously what was this last envelope? He thought he knew by heart every separate document that was in the box, and he could not recall what this might be.
"You must be convinced by now," argued Searle, as if deliberately heightening the suspense, while he turned a straight glance upon the minister, "that I had no object in inspecting the contents of this box except to search for the diamonds."
"And you have not found them!"
This was obviously the remark which should have come in triumphant, challenging tones from the minister. As a matter of fact, it came quietly, and with a sigh of relief, from Silas Wadham.
The minister did not speak at all, did not even raise his eyes to meet the glance of Searle. His gaze was fixed as
