“But she says she did not break into it.”
“As surely as that is heaven’s sun above us, she did it, Mr. Johnny. She has been full of spite towards me for a long time, and she thought she would pay me out. I did but unlock the box, and slip the little paper of money in, and I locked it again instantly and brought the key away with me: I can never say anything truer than that, sir: to make a mistake about it is not possible.”
No pen could convey the solemn earnestness with which she spoke. Somehow it impressed me. I hoped Hall would get served out.
“Yes, the wrong has triumphed for once. As far as I can see, sir, it often does triumph. Miss Deveen thinks great things of Hall, but she is deceived in her; and I daresay she will find her out sometime. It was Hall who ought to have been turned away instead of me. Not that I would stay here longer if I could.”
“But you like Miss Deveen?”
“Very much indeed, sir; she is a good lady and a kind mistress. She spoke very well indeed of me to the new family where I am going, and I daresay I shall do well enough there.—Have you been to Saltwater lately, sir?” she added, abruptly.
“Never since. Do you get news from the place?”
She shook her head. “I have never heard a word from any soul in it. I have written to nobody, and nobody has written to me.”
“And nothing more has come out about poor Jane Cross. It is still a mystery.”
“And likely to be one,” she replied, in a low tone.