It came upon her overwhelmingly that no longer could she bear her burden alone. She felt she must confide in somebody—must have the sympathy of some friendly soul. Again her thoughts turned to Mrs. Parsley. She was inclined to go and tell her everything as she had been before. Together Barton and this nameless spy were working for the end of Jabez. She felt convinced of it. Anything to save him from that—and indeed she herself must suffer with him. His downfall was hers too, and then——Yes, she would go.
She unlocked the door, and with the letter under her cloak ran downstairs. In the hall she was confronted by Mrs. Darrow. There was an angry glitter in the widow's eye.
"Where are you going, Miss Crane?"
"To post a letter."
"Cannot the servant post it?"
"No," replied Miriam curtly, and left the house.
Mrs. Darrow peered after her.
"She goes out in this fearful rain to post a letter—herself," she thought. "More mystery! I won't stand it any longer. Dicky or no Dicky—money or no money—she goes this day month!"
When Miriam returned Mrs. Darrow gave her notice.