do. Look at this one," said I, showing her the blank side of the confession. "Could n’t a sheet like this have come from somewhere about the house? Examine it well; the matter is important."
"I have, and I say, no, I never had a sheet of paper like that in my house."
Mr. Gryce advanced and took the confession from my hand. As he did so, he whispered: "What do you think now? Many chances that Hannah got up this precious document?"
I shook my head, convinced at last; but in another moment turned to him and whispered back: "But, if Hannah did n’t write it, who did? And how came it to be found where it was?"
"That," said he, "is just what is left for us to learn." And, beginning again, he put question after question concerning the girl’s life in the house, receiving answers which only tended to show that she could not have brought the confession with her, much less received it from a secret messenger. Unless we doubted Mrs. Belden’s word, the mystery seemed impenetrable, and I was beginning to despair of success, when Mr. Gryce, with an askance look at me, leaned towards Mrs. Belden and said:
"You received a letter from Miss Mary Leavenworth yesterday, I hear."
"Yes, sir."
"This letter?" he continued, showing it to her.
"Yes, sir."
"Now I want to ask you a question. Was the letter, as you see it, the only contents of the envelope in which it came? Was n’t there one for Hannah enclosed with it?"
"No, sir. There was nothing in my letter for her;
