Taking from his pocket a small screw-driver, with which he had
prepared himself, he opened the drawer designated in the letter, the key
of which he had secured. Emptying the drawer of its contents, he turned
it over, and, to his great delight, perceived the slat as described in
the letter. Removing the screws, he soon had the satisfaction of holding
in his hand the packet which, he doubted not, would restore the heiress
of Bellevue to her home and her estates, if she were still alive; or
which would give him a hold upon Jaspar, by means of which he could make
his fortune.
Dalhousie was not a natural-born villain. It was the pressure of
necessity, the almost unconscious yielding of a weak resolution, which
had led him thus far in his present illegal and dishonorable course. Of
the heiress he knew nothing; and the thought of restoring her had never
entered his head, much more his heart. The great purpose of his life
was to make his fortune, and it was this idea alone which influenced him
in the present instance. He had entered upon his duties at Bellevue only
the day before; but so impatient was he to realize the hope which had
brought him there, that every hour seemed burdened with the weight of
weeks.
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