"How did you open it before? You have a duplicate key?
Yes, of course you have.Open it!"
From out of her bosom Lady Hilda had drawn a small key.
The box flew open.It was stuffed with papers.Holmes thrust the blue envelope deep down into the heart of them, between the leaves of some other document.The box was shut, locked, and returned to the bedroom.
"Now we are ready for him," said Holmes; "we have still ten minutes.I am going far to screen you, Lady Hilda.In return you will spend the time in telling me frankly the real meaning of this extraordinary affair.""Mr.Holmes, I will tell you everything," cried the lady.
"Oh, Mr.Holmes, I would cut off my right hand before I gave him a moment of sorrow! There is no woman in all London who loves her husband as I do, and yet if he knew how I have acted -- how I have been compelled to act -- he would never forgive me.For his own honour stands so high that he could not forget or pardon a lapse in another.Help me, Mr.Holmes! My happiness, his happiness, our very lives are at stake!""Quick, madam, the time grows short!"
"It was a letter of mine, Mr.Holmes, an indiscreet letter written before my marriage -- a foolish letter, a letter of an impulsive, loving girl.I meant no harm, and yet he would have thought it criminal.Had he read that letter his confidence would have been for ever destroyed.It is years since I wrote it.
I had thought that the whole matter was forgotten.Then at last I heard from this man, Lucas, that it had passed into his hands, and that he would lay it before my husband.I implored his mercy.
He said that he would return my letter if I would bring him a certain document which he described in my husband's despatch-box.
He had some spy in the office who had told him of its existence.