“It is needless to trouble you with the first half of the letter,” he said.  “I can give the substance of it in two words.  The writer’s position at the time is this.  She has been long living in Switzerland with her husband—­obliged to live there for the sake of her husband’s health.  They are about to move to a new residence on the Lake of Neuchatel in a week, and they will be ready to receive Mrs. Miller as visitor in a fortnight from that time.  This said, the writer next enters into an important domestic detail.  She has been childless for years—­she and her husband have now no hope of children; they are lonely; they want an interest in life; they have decided on adopting a child.  Here the important part of the letter begins; and here, therefore, I read it to you word for word.”

He folded back the first page of the letter and read as follows.

“* * * Will you help us, my dear sister, to realise our new project?  As English people, we wish to adopt an English child.  This may be done, I believe, at the Foundling:  my husband’s lawyers in London will tell you how.  I leave the choice to you, with only these conditions attached to it—­that the child is to be an infant under a year old, and is to be a boy.  Will you pardon the trouble I am giving you, for my sake; and will you bring our adopted child to us, with your own children, when you come to Neuchatel?

“I must add a word as to my husband’s wishes in this matter.  He is resolved to spare the child whom we make our own any future mortification and loss of self-respect which might be caused by a discovery of his true origin.  He will bear my husband’s name, and he will be brought up in the belief that he is really our son.  His inheritance of what we have to leave will be secured to him—­not only according to the laws of England in such cases, but according to the laws of Switzerland also; for we have lived so long in this country, that there is a doubt whether we may not be considered as I domiciled, in Switzerland.  The one precaution left to take is to prevent any after-discovery at the Foundling.  Now, our name is a very uncommon one; and if we appear on the Register of the Institution as the persons adopting the child, there is just a chance that something might result from it.  Your name, my dear, is the name of thousands of other people; and if you will consent to appear on the Register, there need be no fear of any discoveries in that quarter.  We are moving, by the doctor’s orders, to a part of Switzerland in which our circumstances are quite unknown; and you, as I understand, are about to engage a new nurse for the journey when you come to see us.  Under these circumstances, the child may appear as my child, brought back to me under my sister’s care.  The only servant we take with us from our old home is my own maid, who can be safely trusted.  As for the lawyers in England and in Switzerland, it is their profession to keep secrets—­and we may feel quite easy in that direction.  So there you have our harmless little conspiracy!  Write by return of post, my love, and tell me you will join it.” * * *

“Do you still conceal the name of the writer of that letter?” asked Vendale.