"I want, not the paper, but the
secret, fool! You may have the paper for yourself if you will
tell me how Madame got it."
Nevertheless, his words led me to look at the packet. I opened
it, and, having satisfied myself that it contained the original
and not a copy, was putting it up again when my eyes fell on a
small spot of blood which marked one corner of the cover. It was
not larger than a grain of corn, but it awoke, first, a vague
association and then a memory, which as I rode grew stronger and
more definite, until, on a sudden, discovery flashed upon me--and
the truth. I remembered where I had seen spots of blood before
--on the papers I had handed to Ferret and remembered, too, where
that blood had come from. I looked at the cut now, and, finding
it nearly healed, sprang in my saddle. Of a certainty this paper
had gone through my hands that day! It had been among the
others; therefore it must have been passed to Ferret inside
another when I first opened the bag! The rogue, getting it and
seeing his opportunity, and that I did not suspect, had doubtless
secreted it, probably while I was attending to my hand.
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