with a stamp which she had taken from her own pocket-book.
"That is a crazy-looking epistle," she muttered, as she laid it, direction downwards, in her lap.
"Why not wait, then, till you arrive at your destination, where you can seal it properly, and direct it at your leisure?"
"Because I am in haste. I wish to mail it now. Look, there is a box on the corner; please ask the driver to stop once more."
"Shall I not post it for you?" I asked, holding out my hand.
But she shook her head, and, without waiting for my assistance, opened the door on her own side of the carriage and leaped to the ground. Even then she paused to glance up and down the street, before venturing to drop her hastily written letter into the box. But when it had left her hand, she looked brighter and more hopeful than I had yet seen her. And when, a few moments later, she turned to bid me good-by in front of her friend’s house, it was with almost a cheerful air she put out her hand and entreated me to call on her the next day, and inform her how the inquest progressed.
I shall not attempt to disguise from you the fact that I spent all that long evening in going over the testimony given at the inquest, endeavoring to reconcile what I had heard with any other theory than that of Eleanore’s guilt. Taking a piece of paper, I jotted down the leading causes of suspicion as follows:
1. Her late disagreement with her uncle, and evident estrangement from him, as testified to by Mr. Harwell.
2. The mysterious disappearance of one of the servants of the house.
