Great was Mr. Belcher’s indignation when he received this letter.  He had not finished with Yates.  He had anticipated exactly this result from the investigations.  He knew about old Tilden, for Buffum had told him; and he did not doubt that Jim had exhibited to Yates the old man’s bones.  He believed that Benedict was dead, but he did not know.  It would be necessary, therefore, to prepare a document that would be good in any event.

If the reader remembers the opening chapter of this story, he will recall the statement of Miss Butterworth, that Mr. Belcher had followed Benedict to the asylum to procure his signature to a paper.  This paper, drawn up in legal form, had been preserved, for Mr. Belcher was a methodical, business man; and when he had finished reading Yates’s letter, and had exhausted his expletives after his usual manner, he opened a drawer, and, extracting the paper, read it through.  It was more than six years old, and bore its date, and the marks of its age.  All it needed was the proper signatures.

He knew that he could trust Yates no longer.  He knew, too, that he could not forward his own ends by appearing to be displeased.  The reply which Yates received was one that astonished him by its mildness, its expression of satisfaction with his faithful labor, and its record of good wishes.  Now that he was upon the spot, Mr. Yates could still serve him, both in a friendly and in a professional way.  The first service he could render him was to forward to him autograph letters from the hands of two men deceased.  He wished to verify the signatures of these men, he said, but as they were both dead, he, of course, could not apply to them.

Yates did not doubt that there was mischief in this request.  He guessed what it was, and he kept the letter; but after a few days he secured the desired autographs, and forwarded them to Mr. Belcher, who filed them away with the document above referred to.  After that, the great proprietor, as a relief from the severe pursuits of his life, amused himself by experiments with inks and pens, and pencils, and with writing in a hand not his own, the names of “Nicholas Johnson” and “James Ramsey.”

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN WHICH MRS. DILLINGHAM MAKES SOME IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES, BUT FAILS TO REVEAL THEM TO THE READER.

Mrs. Dillingham was walking back and forth alone through her long drawing-room.  She was revolving in her mind a compliment, breathed into her ear by her friend Mrs. Talbot that day.  Mrs. Talbot had heard from the mouth of one of Mrs. Dillingham’s admirers the statement, confirmed with a hearty, good-natured oath, that he considered the fascinating widow “the best groomed woman in New York.”

The compliment conveyed a certain intimation which was not pleasant for her to entertain.  She was indebted to her skill in self-"grooming” for the preservation of her youthful appearance.  She had been conscious of this, but it was not pleasant to have the fact detected by her friends.  Neither was it pleasant to have it bruited in society, and reported to her by one who rejoiced in the delicacy of the arrow which, feathered by friendship, she had been able to plant in the widow’s breast.