fear by
day, and fear by night? I believe, if I had dropped a word about the
pocketbook, it would have sobered me in an instant. Have you any remark
to make on this curious circumstance?"

Thus far, Emily had allowed the woman to ramble on, in the hope of
getting information which direct inquiry might fail to produce. It was
impossible, however, to pass over the allusion to the pocketbook. After
giving her time to recover from the exhaustion which her heavy breathing
sufficiently revealed, Emily put the question:

"Who did the pocketbook belong to?"

"Wait a little," said Mrs. Rook. "Everything in its right place, is my
motto. I mustn't begin with the pocketbook. Why did I begin with it? Do
you think this veil on my face confuses me? Suppose I take it off. But
you must promise first--solemnly promise you won't look at my face. How
can I tell you about the murder (the murder is part of my confession,
you know), with this lace tickling my skin? Go away--and stand there
with your back to me. Thank you. Now I'll take it off. Ha! the air
feels refreshing; I know what I am about. Good heavens, I have forgotten
something! I have forgotten _him_. And after such a fright as he gave
me! Did you see him on the landing?"

"Who are you talking of?" Emily asked.

Mrs. Rook's failing voice sank lower still.

"Come closer," she said, "this must be whispered. Who am I talking of?"
she repeated. "I am talking of the man who slept in the other bed at
the inn; the man who did the deed with his own razor. He was gone when I
looked into the outhouse in the gray of the morning. Oh, I have done my
duty! I have told Mr. Rook to keep an eye on him downstairs. You haven't
an idea how obstinate and stupid my husband is. He says I couldn't know
the man, because I didn't see him. Ha! there's such a thing as hearing,
when you don't see. I heard--and I knew it again."

Emily turned cold from head to foot.

"What did you know again?" she said.

"His voice," Mrs. Rook answered. "I'll swear to his voice before all the
judges in England."

Emily rushed to the bed. She looked at the woman who had said those
dreadful words, speechless with horror.

"You're breaking your promise!" cried Mrs. Rook. "You false girl, you're
breaking your promise!"

She snatched at the veil, and put it on again. The sight of her face,
momentary as it had been, reassured Emily. Her wild eyes, made wilder
still by the blurred stains of rouge below them, half washed