t occasion, that Mr. Betteredge was out of the way.

"When I got back to the servants' hall, the bell was going for our
dinner. Afternoon already! and the materials for making the new
nightgown were still to be got! There was but one chance of getting
them. I shammed ill at dinner; and so secured the whole of the interval
from then till tea-time to my own use.

"What I was about, while the household believed me to be lying down
in my own room; and how I spent the night, after shamming ill again at
tea-time, and having been sent up to bed, there is no need to tell you.
Sergeant Cuff discovered that much, if he discovered nothing more. And
I can guess how. I was detected (though I kept my veil down) in the
draper's shop at Frizinghall. There was a glass in front of me, at the
counter where I was buying the longcloth; and--in that glass--I saw one
of the shopmen point to my shoulder and whisper to another. At night
again, when I was secretly at work, locked into my room, I heard the
breathing of the women servants who suspected me, outside my door.

"It didn't matter then; it doesn't matter now. On the Friday morning,
hours before Sergeant Cuff entered the house, there was the new
nightgown--to make up your number in place of the nightgown that I had
got--made, wrung out, dried, ironed, marked, and folded as the laundry
woman folded all the others, safe in your drawer. There was no fear (if
the linen in the house was examined) of the newness of the nightgown
betraying me. All your underclothing had been renewed, when you came to
our house--I suppose on your return home from foreign parts.

"The next thing was the arrival of Sergeant Cuff; and the next great
surprise was the announcement of what HE thought about the smear on the
door.

"I had believed you to be guilty (as I have owned), more because I
wanted you to be guilty than for any other reason. And now, the Sergeant
had come round by a totally different way to the same conclusion
(respecting the nightgown) as mine! And I had got the dress that was
the only proof against you! And not a living creature knew it--yourself
included! I am afraid to tell you how I felt when I called these things
to mind--you would hate my memory for ever afterwards."

At that place, Betteredge looked up from the letter.

"Not a glimmer of light so far, Mr. Franklin," said the old man, taking
off his heavy tortoiseshell spectacles, and pushing Rosanna Spearman's
confession a little aw