'No--nothing sad, Captain Lake--nothing--but a good deal that is
strange.'

'Oh, is there?' said Lake, in his soft tones, leaning forward in his easy
chair, and looking on the shining points of his boots.

'I have found out a thing, Captain Lake, which will no doubt interest
_you_ as much as it does me. It will lead, I think, to a much more exact
_guess_ about Mr. Mark Wylder.'

There was a sturdy emphasis in the attorney's speech which was far from
usual, and indicated something.

'Oh! you have? May one hear it?' said Lake, in the same silken tone, and
looking down, as before, on his boots.

'I've discovered something about his letters,' said the attorney, and
paused.

'Satisfactory, I hope?' said Lake as before.

'Foul play, Sir.'

'Foul play--is there? What is he doing now?' said Lake in the same
languid way, his elbows on the arms of his chair, stooping forward, and
looking serenely on the floor, like a man who is tired of his work, and
enjoys his respite.

'Why, Captain Lake, the matter is this--it amounts, in fact, to _fraud_.
It is plain that the letters are written in batches--several at a