'I will tell you. You may not be aware how much a few written lines can sometimes convey to one in my profession, especially when written by one who speaks frankly, as friend to friend; and when I had read that portion of your letter which describes the scene in the conservatory, I seemed to see it all.' I was speaking with my eyes upon the ripples of the little stream at our feet, into which, from time to time, I tossed a leaf or twig from the branches just overhead.
'When I had read that portion of the letter, Miss Jenrys,' I went on, 'before I had seen you or Lossing, I said to myself, "She has been deceived—tricked!"'
'Tricked?' she whispered through pale lips, and then she drew herself erect, and awaited my next words.
'Miss Jenrys, I believe you know now whom I am about to accuse. Yesterday I had a talk with Lossing, as long as the doctor would permit, and I, on my part, took him quite into my confidence. He knows me for what I am; he knows what I am doing. I told him, after consulting you, the story of the letter—of the brunette—everything. Was I wrong?'
'No,' very slowly.
'And last I told him that I believed someone had played him a dastardly trick. Shall I tell you what he said to me?'
'Yes.'
'He swore that the words you heard behind the palms were never uttered by him; that he saw only you and one other in the conservatory.'
She clasped her two hands in her lap, and I saw that they trembled slightly; but her voice was low and calm when she turned to me and said:
'If he tells me this, I shall believe him.' And then, after a moment of silence, 'How was it done?' she asked.