“I have proofs.”
“What proofs?”
“Letters written by M. Champcey to Sarah. I have obtained two; and I
have them here in my pocket-book.”
He put at the same time his hand to his pocket. She stopped him.
“These letters would prove nothing to me, sir.”
“But”--
She cast a withering glance at him, and said, in a voice of unbearable
contempt,--
“Those who have sent a letter to the Navy Department, which pretended to
have been written by Daniel, cannot find any difficulty in imitating his
signature. Let us break off here, sir. I forbid you ever to speak to me
again.”