topped in the street to blow his nose, with a roll
of the head, and a flourish not quite free from latent boastfulness.

"Wemmick," said I, "do you remember telling me, before I first went to
Mr. Jaggers's private house, to notice that housekeeper?"

"Did I?" he replied. "Ah, I dare say I did. Deuce take me," he added,
suddenly, "I know I did. I find I am not quite unscrewed yet."

"A wild beast tamed, you called her."

"And what do you call her?"

"The same. How did Mr. Jaggers tame her, Wemmick?"

"That's his secret. She has been with him many a long year."

"I wish you would tell me her story. I feel a particular interest in
being acquainted with it. You know that what is said between you and me
goes no further."

"Well!" Wemmick replied, "I don't know her story,--that is, I don't know
all of it. But what I do know I'll tell you. We are in our private and
personal capacities, of course."

"Of course."

"A score or so of years ago, that woman was tried at the Old Bailey for
murder, and was acquitted. She was a very handsome young woman, and I
believe had some gypsy blood in her. Anyhow, it was hot enough when it
was up, as you may suppose."

"But she was acquitted."

"Mr. Jaggers was for her," pursued Wemmick, with a look full of meaning,
"and worked the case in a way quite astonishing. It was a desperate
case, and it was comparatively early days with him then, and he worked
it to general admiration; in fact, it may almost be said to have made
him. He worked it himself at the police-office, day after day for many
days, contending against even a committal; and at the trial where he
couldn't work it himself, sat under counsel, and--every one knew--put
in all the salt and pepper. The murdered person was a woman,--a woman a
good ten years older, very much larger, and very much stronger. It was
a case of jealousy. They both led tramping lives, and this woman in
Gerrard Street here had been married very young, over the broomstick (as
we say), to a tramping man, and was a perfect fury in point of jealousy.
The murdered woman,--more a match for the man, certainly, in point of
years--was found dead in a barn near Hounslow Heath. There had been a
violent struggle, perhaps a fight. She was bruised and scratched and
torn, and had been held by the throat, at last, and choked. Now, there
was no reasonable evidence to implicate any person but this woman, and
on the improbabilities of her having been able to do it Mr. J