But don't worry--nobody's going to take anything from you." Mr.Pyecroft started out, then paused.
"I just happened to remember; you said the letter might not be signed.
Hadn't you better let me have one of the Duke de Crecy's letters, so I can verify the handwriting ?" "I don't mind; these don't tell much." And the detective handed over one letter.
"It may be an hour or two before I can get back; the letters are packed away and I've got to go through them and compare them." He slipped out.

Mr.Brown, as he watched him, could hardly conceal his contempt.
The detective sat heavily down.

Mrs.De Peyster was sick with apprehension as to what that incomprehensible Mr.Pyecroft was about to do.

She wanted to talk to Matilda.

But the two dared not speak with this confident, omniscient, detectorial presence between them.