I looked narrowly all over the bunch, and I felt all over it with the ends of my fingers, and nothing came of that.  Then I scraped it over slowly and gently with my nails.  My second finger-nail stuck a little at one place.  I parted the pile of the carpet over that place, and saw a thin slit which had been hidden by the pile being smoothed over it—­a slit about half an inch long, with a little end of brown thread, exactly the color of the carpet ground, sticking out about a quarter of an inch from the middle of it.  Just as I laid hold of the thread gently, I heard a footstep outside the door.

It was only the head chambermaid.  “Haven’t you done yet?” she whispers.

“Give me two minutes,” says I, “and don’t let anybody come near the door—­whatever you do, don’t let anybody startle me again by coming near the door.”

I took a little pull at the thread, and heard something rustle.  I took a longer pull, and out came a piece of paper, rolled up tight like those candle-lighters that the ladies make.  I unrolled it—­and, by George! there was the letter!

The original letter!  I knew it by the color of the ink.  The letter that was worth five hundred pounds to me!  It was all that I could do to keep myself at first from throwing my hat into the air, and hurrahing like mad.  I had to take a chair and sit quiet in it for a minute or two, before I could cool myself down to my proper business level.  I knew that I was safely down again when I found myself pondering how to let Mr. Davager know that he had been done by the innocent country attorney, after all.

It was not long before a nice little irritating plan occurred to me.  I tore a blank leaf out of my pocketbook, wrote on it with my pencil, “Change for a five-hundred-pound note,” folded up the paper, tied the thread to it, poked it back into the hiding-place, smoothed over the pile of the carpet, and then bolted off to Mr. Frank.  He in his turn bolted off to show the letter to the young lady, who first certified to its genuineness, then dropped it into the fire, and then took the initiative for the first time since her marriage engagement, by flinging her arms round his neck, kissing him with all her might, and going into hysterics in his arms.  So at least Mr. Frank told me, but that’s not evidence.  It is evidence, however, that I saw them married with my own eyes on the Wednesday; and that while they went off in a carriage-and-four to spend the honeymoon, I went off on my own legs to open a credit at the Town and County Bank with a five-hundred-pound note in my pocket.

As to Mr. Davager, I can tell you nothing more about him, except what is derived from hearsay evidence, which is always unsatisfactory evidence, even in a lawyer’s mouth.