asons that she would cease her banter, and he
had another subject to advance, which he now brought forward abruptly.
"I don't know, Miss Rexford, what right I have to think you will take
any interest in what interests me, but, after what happened last night,
I can't help telling you that I've got to the bottom of that puzzle, and
I'm afraid it will prove a very serious matter for my poor friend
Bates."

"What is it?" she cried, his latest audacity forgotten.

"Just now, as I came out of the village, I met the person I saw in the
Harmon house, and the same I saw before, the time I told you of. It was
a woman--a young woman dressed in silk. I don't know what she may be
doing here, but I know now _who_ she must be. She must be Sissy Cameron.
No other girl could have been at Turrifs Station the night I saw her
there. She _is_ Sissy Cameron." (His voice grew fiercer.) "She must have
turned her father's hearse into a vehicle for her own tricks; and what's
more, she must, with the most deliberate cruelty, have kept the
knowledge of her safety from poor Bates all these months."

"Stay, stay!" cried Sophia, for his voice had grown so full of anger
against the girl that he could hardly pour out the tale of her guilt
fast enough. "Where did you meet her? What was she like?"

"I met her ten minutes ago, walking on this road. She was a great big
buxom girl, with a white face and red hair; perhaps people might call
her handsome. I pulled up and stared at her, but she went on as if she
didn't see me. Now I'm going in to tell Bates, and then I shall go back
and bring her to book. I don't know what she may be up to in Chellaston,
but she must be found."

"Many people do think her handsome, Mr. Trenholme," said Sophia, for she
knew now who it was; "and she is certainly not--the sort of--"

"Do you mean to say you know her?"

"Yes, I know her quite well. I had something to do with bringing her to
Chellaston. I never knew till this moment that she was the girl you and
Mr. Bates have been seeking, and indeed--" She stopped, confused, for,
although it had flashed on her for the first time that what she knew of
Eliza's history tallied with his story, she could not make it all match,
and then she perceived that no doubt it was in the Harmon house that
Eliza had so faithfully sought the letters now held in her own hand.
"Really," she continued, "you mustn't go to work with this girl in the
summary manner you suggest. I know her too well