tisfied; and Chloe, possibly feeling unable, or reluctant, to make
any further excuse for Tochatti, hurried on with her tale.

"Another factor in Tochatti's determination not to suffer herself is to
be found in her dread of a prison as a sort of asylum like that in which
she had been confined abroad. I don't know what kind of institution that
had been, but she evidently retains to this day a very vivid
recollection of the horrors she then endured; and her heart failed her
at the bare thought of returning to such a frightful existence as she
had then experienced. At any rate"--she suddenly abandoned her
apologia--"she could not face it; and so she allowed me to take the
blame; and by reiterating the fact that she could not write--a theory
which the other servants held, in common with me----"

"But had you never seen her write? It seems odd, all the years she had
been in your service!"

"No, I had never seen her write, for the simple reason that she never
did write. It seems that the result of that fatal letter of hers had
imprinted a horror of writing on her mind; and I really believe that
until the day on which she penned the first anonymous letter she had
never taken a pen or pencil in her hand...."

"Well, it's admitted she wrote those letters, and hoodwinked the world,"
said Carstairs briskly. "And though I confess I don't understand how she
could reconcile her actions with her affection for you we will let that
point pass. But now--what about those last letters? Is Dr. Anstice's
supposition that she was jealous of him correct?"

"Quite." Chloe looked at Anstice rather apologetically. "You know
Tochatti is of a horribly jealous disposition; and she could not bear to
see Cherry growing fonder of you day by day. That unlucky accident was
the crowning point, of course; and the fact that you appeared to slight
her powers of looking after the child--you must forgive me for putting
it like that--was too much for her. With the arrival of Nurse Trevor
Tochatti seemed to lose all sense of decent behaviour; and her idea was
to repeat her former experience and circularize the neighbourhood with a
scandalous story which she hoped, as she has since owned to me, might
succeed in driving you away."

"A very pretty plot," said Anstice quietly, "and one which deserved to
succeed. But, Mrs. Carstairs, if you will allow me to repeat your
husband's question--how did she learn my unhappy story?"

"I expected you to ask that," retu