Then Miss Carwell had been called away to attend to some household matters, and Viola had started to return to the safe such of the papers as were not to go to the lawyer.
She opened a small drawer, to slip back into it a bundle of letters her mother had written to Mr.Carwell years before.Then Viola became aware of something else in the drawer.It was something that caught on the end of her finger nail, and she was stung by a little prick-like that of a pin.
"A sliver-under my nail!" exclaimed Viola."The bottom of the wooden drawer must be loose."It was loose, as she discovered as soon as she looked in the compartment.But it was a looseness that meant nothing else than that the drawer had a false bottom.
It was not such a false bottom as would have been made use of in the moving pictures.That is to say it was very poorly made, and an almost casual glance would have revealed it.All that had been done was to take a piece of wood the exact size and shape of the bottom of the drawer, and fit it in.This extra piece of wood covered anything that might be put in thedrawer under it, and then, on top of the false bottom other things might be placed so that when they were taken out, and the person doing it saw bare wood, the conclusion would naturally follow that all the contents of the drawer had been removed.
But such was not the case.Beneath the smoothfitting piece of wood, which had sprung loose and been the means of driving a splinter under Viola's nail, thus apprising her of the fact that there was something in the drawer she had not seen, had been found some letters.And Viola had not told her aunt about them.
"I want to see what they are myself, first," the girl decided.
Now they were spread out on her dressing table in front of her.She sat with her glorious blue-black hair unbound, and falling over her shoulders, which gleamed pink through the filmy thinness of her robe.
"I wonder if I shall be shocked when I read them?" she mused.
That was what Viola had been living in continual fear of since her father's death - that some disclosure would shock her - that she might come upon some phase of his past life which would not bear the full light of day.For Horace Carwell had not stinted himself of the pleasures of life as he saw them.He had eaten and drunk and he had made merry.And he was a gregarious man - one who did not like to take his pleasures alone.
And so Viola was afraid.
The letters were held together with an elastic band, and this gave some hope.
"If they were from a woman, he wouldn't have used a rubber band on them," reasoned Viola."He was too sentimental for that.They can't be mother's letters - they were in another compartment.I wonder - "Viola had done much wondering since her mother's death, and considerable of it had been due to the life her father led.That he would marry again she doubted, but he was fond of the society of the men, and particularly the women of their own set, and some sets with which Viola preferred to have nothing to do.
And if Mr.Carwell had no intentions of marrying again, then his interest in women -But here Viola ceased wondering.
With a more resolute air she reached forth hand to the bundle of letters and took one out.There was distinct relief in her manner as she quickly turned to the signature and read: "Gerry Poland."And then, quickly, she ascertained that all the letters comprised correspondence between her father and the yacht club captain.
"But why did he hide these letters away?" mused Viola."They seem to be about business, as the others were - the others showing that Captain Poland perhaps saved my father from financial ruin.Why should they be under the false bottom of the drawer?"She could not answer that question.
"I must read them all," she murmured, and she went through the entire correspondence.There were several letters, sharp in tone, from both men, and the subject was as Greek to Viola.But there was one note from the captain to her father that brought a more vivid color to her dark cheeks, for Captain Poland had written:
"You care little for what I have done for you, otherwise you would not so oppose my attentions to your daughter.They are mosthonorable, as you well know, yet you are strangely against me.Ican not understand it.""Oh!" murmured Viola."It is as if I were being bargained for! How I hate him!"Almost blinded by her tears she read another letter.It was another appeal to her father to use his influence in assisting the captain's suit.
But this letter - or at least that portion of it relating to Viola - had been torn, and all that remained was:
"As members of the same lo- "
"What can that have meant?" she mused."Is it the word 'lodge'?" She read on, where the letter was whole again:
"I must ask you to reconsider your actions.Let me hear from you by the twenty-third or - "Again was that mystifying and tantalizing tear.Viola hastily searched among the other letters, hoping the missing pieces might be found.
"I simply must see what it meant," she said."I wonder if they can be in another part of the safe?I'm going to look!"She started for her bath robe, and, at that moment, with a suddenness that unnerved her, there came a knock on her door.
