ce the Lafarge affair!" that in another moment he would be
uttering some theory or belief that once heard would forever stand like
a barrier between us, did I allow myself to hand him the letter I had
taken from under the dead body of Hannah.

I shall never forget his expression as he received it; "Good heavens!"
cried he, "what's this?"

"A dying confession of the girl Hannah. I found it lying in her bed when
I went up, a half-hour ago, to take a second look at her."

Opening it, he glanced over it with an incredulous air that speedily,
however, turned to one of the utmost astonishment, as he hastily perused
it, and then stood turning it over and over in his hand, examining it.

"A remarkable piece of evidence," I observed, not without a certain
feeling of triumph; "quite changes the aspect of affairs!"

"Think so?" he sharply retorted; then, whilst I stood staring at him in
amazement, his manner was so different from what I expected, looked up
and said: "You tell me that you found this in her bed. Whereabouts in
her bed?"

"Under the body of the girl herself," I returned. "I saw one corner of
it protruding from beneath her shoulders, and drew it out."

He came and stood before me. "Was it folded or open, when you first
looked at it?"

"Folded; fastened up in this envelope," showing it to him.

He took it, looked at it for a moment, and went on with his questions.

"This envelope has a very crumpled appearance, as well as the letter
itself. Were they so when you found them?"

"Yes, not only so, but doubled up as you see."

"Doubled up? You are sure of that? Folded, sealed, and then doubled up
as if her body had rolled across it while alive?"

"Yes."

"No trickery about it? No look as if the thing had been insinuated there
since her death?"

"Not at all. I should rather say that to every appearance she held it in
her hand when she lay down, but turning over, dropped it and then laid
upon it."

Mr. Gryce's eyes, which had been very bright, ominously clouded;
evidently he had been disappointed in my answers, paying the letter
down, he stood musing, but suddenly lifted it again, scrutinized the
edges of the paper on which it was written, and, darting me a quick
look, vanished with it into the shade of the window curtain. His manner
was so peculiar, I involuntarily rose to follow; but he waved me back,
saying:

"Amuse yourself with that box on the table, which you had such an ado
over; see if it contai