"They say so," confessed Timothy. "But if I did, I'm sure I've been punished enough for it. It's hard that it should stick to me always. Why don't they find the writer of the letter, and punish him? He was the villain; not me."
"So he was," said Jelly. "Tim, what would you say if I told you I knew who it was?"
"I? Excuse me, Miss Jelly, but I should not quite believe it."
Jelly laughed. Not a loud laugh, but one rather derisive, and full of power. Its peculiar significance penetrated to him who was seated under the cedar-tree, betraying all too surely that Jelly knew his dangerous secret. Even the less sensitive Tim Wilks was impressed by the sound.
"Surely, Miss Jelly, you do not mean that you know who wrote the letter?"
"I could put my finger out from where I now stand, Tim, and lay it on the right person," she answered in low, impressive tones, little suspecting how literally true were her words.
Tim seemed overwhelmed. He drew a deep breath.
"Then, why don't you, Miss Jelly?"
"Because----" Jelly stopped short. "Well, because there are certain considerations that make it difficult to speak."
"But you ought to speak. Indeed you ought, Miss Jelly. If Lawyer Dale got to hear of this, he'd tell you he could compel you to speak."