"No, sir."
"And you want me to see him?"
"Before you go, sir, if you have no objections. I sha'n't know how to thank you."
"I will do what I can for you, Fanny. First for your own sake, and next because there appears to be something going on in this house that ought to be brought to light."
"You may well say that, sir. Not only in this house, but out of this house. The good Lord above only knows what is going on! But Lemon's done nothing wrong, sir. I won't have him thought badly of, and I won't have him hurt. He's been weak, yes, sir, but he ain't been guilty of a wicked, horrible crime. It ain't in his nature, sir. When I first begun to hear things that he used to say in his sleep, and sometimes when he was awake and lost to everything, my hair used to stand on end. I could feel it stirring up, giving me the creeps all over my skin, and my heart'd beat that quick that it was a mercy it didn't jump out of my body. But after a time, frightened as I was, and getting no satisfaction out of Lemon, who only glared at me when I spoke to him, I thought the time might come--and I ain't sure it won't be this blessed day--when I should have to come forward as a witness to save him from the gallows. I am his wife, sir, and if he ain't fit to look after hisself, it's for me to look after him, and so, sir, I thought the best thing for me to do was to keep a dairy."
"A dairy!" I echoed, in wonder.
"Yes, sir, a dairy--to put down in writing everything what happened at the very time."
"O," I said, "you mean a diary!"
"If that's what you call it, sir. I got an old lodger's book that wasn't all filled up. I keep it locked in my desk, sir. Perhaps you'd like to look at it?"
"It may be as well, Fanny."