Mr. Gryce nodded.
"It was an exhausting evening, and quite put Hannah out of my head, but"
"Wait!" cried Mr. Gryce, and beckoning me into a corner, he whispered, "Now comes in that experience of Q’s. While you are gone from the house, and before Mrs. Belden sees Hannah again, he has a glimpse of the girl bending over something in the corner of her room which may very fairly be the wash-bowl we found there. After which, he sees her swallow, in the most lively way, a dose of something from a bit of paper. Was there anything more?"
"No," said I.
"Very well, then," he cried, going back to Mrs. Belden. "But"
"But when I went up-stairs to bed, I thought of the girl, and going to her door opened it. The light was extinguished, and she seemed asleep, so I closed it again and came out."
"Without speaking?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you notice how she was lying?"
"Not particularly. I think on her back."
"In something of the same position in which she was found this morning?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that is all you can tell us, either of her letter or her mysterious death?"
"All, sir."
Mr. Gryce straightened himself up.
"Mrs. Belden," said he, "you know Mr. Clavering’s handwriting when you see it?"
"I do."
"And Miss Leavenworth’s?"
