“What do you expect to find?” asked Mildred. “You can feel the dress anywhere, and you will discover no papers.”
“Take it off,” said the woman sharply. “I don’t know what I will find. I’ll show you when I am through searching.”
Mildred deliberately removed the garment, and while so doing, made two or three unsuccessful attempts to withdraw the treacherous kerchief unobserved; but the diminutive woman was watching with an Argus-eyed vigilance that would have instantly detected any suspicious manipulation. The little lady took it, turned it inside out, and stretched it upon the bed. In an instant her keen eyes fell upon the fatal rent. Mildred felt a choking sensation when she perceived the nimble fingers deftly close upon the General’s handkerchief.
“O, heaven! what shall I do?” was her inward exclamation as she saw the kerchief quickly jerked out. She felt a sickening sensation creeping over her. She tried hard to preserve her equanimity. Would falsehood avail in this instance? or should she tell the truth, and meet death with Christian resignation?
“Ah! what is this?” exclaimed the little woman, holding up the kerchief by two corners, and gazing at it with a most provoking air of triumph.
Mildred’s first impulse was to snatch the terrible document from her hands, and thrust it in the fire, but alas! there was no fire in the room.
“It may be some old rag,” said Mildred in a hoarse, trembling voice, “put in to thicken the lining.” It was the first time in her life that she had practiced prevarication, and the words seemed to blister her tongue.
“Hardly probable,” said the Lilliputian lady with an ironical smile. “Hardly probable; it is almost new, don’t you see? But I will give it to Mr. Twombly, and let him examine it while I continue the work.”
Accordingly, she opened the door, gave the kerchief to the clerk, and resumed the search. But a half hour’s further investigation revealed nothing else of a suspicious character. The woman said: