me--the letters were written
on the kind of paper I used, and though of course the handwriting was
disguised, there was, in one or two letters, an undeniable similarity to
some of my writing."

"But your word--wasn't that sufficient?"

The apathy of her manner relaxed for one moment into a kind of cold
amusement.

"Oh, I gave my word--at first--quite freely. Knowing nothing of the
letters, of course I said so; but I was not believed. I confess
everything was against me. Most of the letters were posted in the pillar
box not a hundred yards from this house--but on one occasion when I had
gone down to Brighton for a couple of days, one of those vile things
bore the Brighton postmark."

"But----"

"Oh, I've nearly done." She glanced at the clock. "I am detaining
you--you're in a hurry? Don't mind saying so--this delightful story can
be continued in our next."

"Please go on." Anstice would not willingly have foregone the rest of
the recital.

"Well, after various suspicious happenings, which I won't inflict upon
you now, and after being interviewed by the Bishop, by detectives, by a
hundred and one individuals who revelled in the case, I was accused,
tried, and found guilty."

"Found guilty? Impossible!" He sprang up, quite unable to sit still
another moment. Somehow he had not expected this climax.

"Yes. I was found guilty." Her voice held little expression. "And
sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment. The judge who sentenced me
informed me--and the world at large--that he deemed it expedient to
'make an example' of me--only he put it more legally--as an educated
young woman, of apparent refinement, who had committed a crime connected
generally with illiterate and ignorant persons of degenerate
tendencies."

"But you--you never served the sentence--such a vindictive sentence,
too!"

"Yes, I did." For the first time her face changed, a hint of tragedy
appeared in her studiously passionless eyes. "You look surprised, but I
assure you it is true. I served my sentence, and came out of prison
exactly eight weeks ago."

"Eight weeks? But you have only just come here?"

"Yes. First I went down into Kent to stay with an old family friend who
had taken charge of Cherry--my little girl--while I was"--she hesitated,
then spoke with a directness he felt to be brutal--"in prison. I only
came here yesterday, and I suppose the shock of finding myself back in
my happy home"--he was sure she was speaking ironically n