"In the desk I found a secret drawer, which I would not have discovered except by the merest chance; and inside of this secret drawer I found some papers, which--which have filled me with anxiety."
"A secret drawer?" said the Earl, as Zillah again paused. "And what were these papers that you found in it?" There was intense anxiety in the tones of his voice as he asked this question.
"I found there," said Zillah, "a paper written in cipher. There was a key connected with it, by means of which I was able to decipher it."
"Written in cipher? How singular!" said the Earl, with increasing anxiety. "What could it possibly have been?"
Zillah stole a glance at him fearfully and inquiringly. She saw that he was much excited and most eager in his curiosity.
"What was it?" repeated the Earl. "Why do you keep me in suspense? You need not be afraid of me, my child. Of course it is nothing that I am in any way concerned with; and even if it were--why--at any rate, tell me what it was."
The Earl spoke in a tone of feverish excitement, which was so unlike any thing that Zillah had ever seen in him before that her embarrassment was increased.
"It was something," she went on, desperately, and in a voice which trembled with agitation, "with which you are connected--something which I had never heard of before--something which filled me with horror. I will show it to you--but I want first to ask you one thing. Will you answer it?"
"Why should I not?" said the Earl, in a low voice.
"It is about Lady Chetwynde," said Zillah, whose voice had died away to a whisper.
The Earl's face seemed to turn to stone as he looked at her. He had been half prepared for this, but still, when it finally came, it was overwhelming. Once before, and once only in his life, had he told his secret. That was to General Pomeroy. But Zillah was different, and even she, much as he loved her, was not one to whom he could speak about such a thing as this.
"Well?" said he at last, in a harsh, constrained voice. "Ask what you wish."
Zillah started. The tone was so different from that in which Lord Chetwynde usually spoke that she was frightened.
"I--I do not know how to ask what I want to ask," she stammered.
"I can imagine it," said the Earl. "It is about my dishonor. I told General Pomeroy about it once, and it seems that he has kindly written it out for your benefit."