“It is; I am, indeed, poor Eudora Leaton!” said the miserable girl, in a dying voice, dropping her head upon her bosom, and letting her clasped hands fall asunder helplessly by her side.
“Then please to hold out your wrists, miss,” said the officer, drawing from his pocket a pair of light steel handcuffs connected by a short, bright steel chain.
Eudora mechanically obeyed, without the highest suspicion of what was about to be done.
“Sorry to have to clasp these ornaments on your wrists, miss; but when a prisoner displays such a wonderful talent for escape as you have, why, we must take proper precautions. Hold your hands up a little higher, if you please, miss—there!” said Sims, snapping the handcuffs upon her delicate wrists; “there, now, I dare say, as your waiting-maid never clasped your gold bracelets when you were going to a party quicker than I have these. And these, though they are of steel, are as light and as bright as possible, and steel is very fashionable now; and as for the chain that connects them, it is for all the world like the handle of an elegant reticule. You see I selected the pattern of the ornament with a view to the delicacy of the wearer,” concluded the man, carefully adjusting the fetters.
“And now, mum,” he added, turning to the landlady, “will you get Miss Leaton’s bonnet and shawl, and so forth, and put them on her, while my comrade goes out and calls a cab?”
The landlady, since the confession of Eudora, had been standing the very image of dumb consternation.
The request of the policeman broke the spell of silence that bound her, and she burst into a passion of tears, sobbing and exclaiming:
“Well, who’d a thought it? I wouldn’t—no! I wouldn’t a believed it if an angel from heaven had come down and told me! and I can scarce believe it even now when I look into her innocent face! Oh, my dear! say it was all a mistake! say as how you are not Eudora Leaton, and not a poisoner, or you’ll break the mother’s heart in my bosom!” she cried, extending her arms with yearning tenderness towards the miserable girl.
“Oh, Mrs. Corder! I am indeed Eudora Leaton, but no poisoner; as the Lord in heaven sees and hears me, no poisoner! Your pure and honest heart must read and understand me rightly! Oh, come, look into my eyes, deep down into my soul, and see if it is stained with such an atrocious crime!” said Eudora, clasping her fettered hands, and raising her beautiful eyes to the face of the landlady.
“No, indeed!” exclaimed the latter; “since you are Eudora Leaton, you are wrongfully accused! I’d stake my life upon it, you are wrongfully accused! I believe you to be as innocent of that deed as my own Sally, that I do!”