Bell appeared, erect and severe of aspect as she had been four-and-twenty years before; neatly dressed in black silk, with braided gray hair, and a white lace cap.
“Sit down, Mrs. Bell, I have a good many questions to ask you,” said Greswold, motioning her to a chair on the further side of his desk.
He was sitting with his eyes fixed, looking at the spot where Mildred had fallen senseless at his feet. He sat for some moments in a reverie, and then turned suddenly, unlocked his desk, and took out the photograph which he had shown Mildred last night.
“Did you ever see that face before, Bell?” he asked, handing her the open case.
“Good gracious, sir, yes, indeed, I should think I did! but Miss Fay was younger than that when she came to Parchment Street.”
“Did you see much of her in Parchment Street?”
“Yes, sir, a good deal, and at The Hook, too; a good deal more than I wanted to. I didn’t hold with her being brought into our house, sir.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t think it was fair to my mistress.”
“But how was it unfair?”