I say, sir, the bare thought of this seemed to
open such a chance before me of winning your
good will, that I passed blindfold, as one may
say, from suspecting to believing. I made up
my mind, on the spot, that you had shown
yourself the busiest of anybody in fetching the
police, as a blind to deceive us all; and that
the hand which had taken Miss Rachel's jewel
could by no possibility be any other hand than
yours.

"The excitement of this new discovery of
mine must, I think, have turned my head for a
while. I felt such a devouring eagerness to
see you—to try you with a word or two about
the Diamond, and to make you look at me, and
speak to me, in that way—that I put my hair
tidy, and made myself as nice as I could, and
went to you boldly in the library where I knew
you were writing.

"You had left one of your rings up-stairs,
which made as good an excuse for my intrusion
as I could have desired. But, oh, sir! if you
have ever loved, you will understand how it
was that all my courage cooled, when I walked
into the room, and found myself in your presence.
And then, you looked up at me so coldly, and
you thanked me for finding your ring in such
an indifferent manner, that my knees trembled
under me, and I felt as if I should drop on the
floor at your feet. When you had thanked me, you
looked back, if you remember, at your writing.
I was so mortified at being treated in this way,
that I plucked up spirit enough to speak. I
said, 'This is a strange thing about the Diamond,
sir.' And you looked up again, and said,
'Yes, it is!' You spoke civilly (I can't deny that);
but still you kept a distance—a cruel distance
between us. Believing, as I did, that you had
got the lost Diamond hidden about you, while
you were speaking, your coolness so provoked
me that I got bold enough, in the heat of the
moment, to give you a hint. I said, 'They
will never find the Diamond, sir, will they?
No! nor the person who took it—I'll answer
for that.' I nodded, and smiled at you, as
much as to say, 'I know!' This time, you
looked up at me with something like interest in
your eyes; and I felt that a few more words
on your side and mine might bring out the
truth. Just at that moment, Mr. Betteredge
spoilt it all by coming to the door. I knew his
footstep, and I also knew that it was against
his rules for me to be in the library at that time
of day—let alone being there along with you.
I had only just time to get out of my own
accord, before he could come in and tell me to
go. I was angry and disappointed; but I was
not entirely without hope for all that. The ice,
you see, was broken between us—and I thought
I would take care, on the next 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 under-
clothing 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 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 away from him.
"Have you come to any conclusion, sir, in
your own mind, while I have been reading?"

"Finish the letter first, Betteredge; there
may be something to enlighten us at the end of
it. I shall have a word or two to say to you
after that."

"Very good, sir. I'll just rest my eyes, and
then I'll go on again. In the meantime, Mr.
Franklin—I don't want to hurry you—but
would you mind telling me, in one word,
whether you see your way out of this dreadful mess
yet?"

"I see my way back to London," I said, "to
consult Mr. Bruff. If he can't help me——"