Even as he spoke his eye fell on the written paper which lay on the table. With one of his habitually quick gestures he snatched it up and read it to himself, while a look of great surprise dawned on his face. Immediately he read it aloud:
I am wholly miserable, and unless the clouds lift I must end my life. I love S., but he does not love me.
After he finished reading, Doctor Hills stood staring at the paper, and looked utterly perplexed.
“I should have said it was not a suicide,” he declared, “but this message seems to indicate that it is. Is this written in Miss Van Norman’s hand?”
Miss Morton, who stood at the doctor’s side, took the paper and scrutinized it.
“It is,” she said. “Yes, certainly that is Miss Van Norman’s writing. I had a letter from her only a few days ago, and I recognize it perfectly.”
“Let me see it,” said Mrs. Markham, in a determined, though rather timid way. “I am more familiar with Madeleine’s writing than a stranger can possibly be.”
Miss Morton handed the paper to the housekeeper without a word, while the doctor, waiting, wondered why these two women seemed so out of sympathy with each other.
“Yes, it is surely Madeleine’s writing,” agreed Mrs. Markham, her glasses dropping off as her eyes filled with tears.
“Then I suppose she killed herself, poor girl,” said the doctor. “She must have been desperate, indeed, for it was a strong blow that drove the steel in so deeply. Who first discovered her here?”