“What did the doctor say to you?” inquired Mrs. Hart.
Hetzel told her.
CHAPTER XI.—“HOW SHE ENDEAVORED TO EXPLAIN HER LIFE.”
THURSDAY morning it rained. Hetzel was seated in Mrs. Hart’s dining-room, making such an apology for a breakfast as, under the circumstances, could be expected of him, when the waitress announced that Josephine was in the kitchen, and wished to speak with her master.
“All right,” said Hetzel; “ask her to step this way.”
Josephine presented herself. Not without some embarrassment, she declared that she had heard what rumor had to say of Mrs. Ripley’s imprisonment and of Mr. Ripley’s sickness, and that she was anxious to learn the very truth of the matter from Hetzel’s lips. Hetzel replied good-naturedly to her interrogations; and at length Josephine rose to go her way. But having attained the door, she halted and faced about.
“Ach Gott!” she exclaimed. “I was forgetting about these.” She drew a bunch of letters from her pocket, and deposited them upon the table beside Hetzel’s plate.
Alone, Hetzel picked the letters up, and began to study their superscriptions. One by one, he threw them aside without breaking their seals, till at last “Hello!” he cried, “who has been writing a book for me to read? Half an inch thick, as I’m alive; looks like a lady’s hand, too; seems somehow as though I recognized it. Let me see.—Ah! I remember. It must be from her!”