"The only curious part about it to my mind is, that it should have been found in Arthur Bohun's desk," pursued Mrs. Cumberland, the two being still delightfully unconscious that they were at the cross-purposes. "He says he has not left his desk unlocked at all, that he is aware of--but of course he might have done so. Why Edmund North should have chosen to put it there, is a mystery." "What has Captain Bohun's desk to do with it?" inquired Mrs. Gass, beginning to feel a little at sea. "The paper was found in Captain Bohun's desk. Though why Edmund North should have placed it there, remains a mystery." "Ma'am, whoever told you that, must have been just trying to deceive you. It was found on this carpet." "Found on this carpet!" "On this very blessed carpet, ma'am. Right back under the claw of that centre dining-table." Again they gazed at each other. Mrs. Cumberland thought her friend must be dreaming. "But you are quite mistaken, Mrs. Gass. The paper--note, or whatever it was--could not have been on this carpet at all: nor in your house, in fact. Captain Bohun discovered it in his desk three days ago, and he has not the slightest idea as to how it came there. Mr. North took possession of it, and it has never since been out of his hands." "My dear lady, they have been mystifying of you," cried Mrs. Gass. "Seeing's believing. The paper was first found by me. By me, ma'am, on this carpet, and it was the same night that Edmund North was first took; not an hour after the fit." Mrs. Cumberland made no reply. She was drifting into the conclusion that all the circumstances had not been related to her. "I picked the paper up myself," continued Mrs. Gass, straightforwardly anxious for the truth. "I kept it safe here for a day and a night, ma'am, waiting to give it back to your son: what I thought was that he had dropped it out of his pocketbook. I never spoke of it to a single soul, and as soon as I had the opportunity I gave it up to him. If it was found in Captain Bohun's desk afterwards--why, Dr. Rane, or somebody else must have put it there. Ma'am, if, as I conclude, you've heard about the paper from your son, I wonder he did not tell you this." "What paper was this?" inquired Mrs. Cumberland, a dim idea arising in her mind that they could not be talking of the same thing. "It was the copy of that anonymous letter." "The copy of the anonymous letter!" "Leastways, its skeleton." Rapidly enough came elucidation now. Without in the least intending to break faith with Dr. Rane, or with her own resolution to keep the matter secret, Mrs. Gass told all she knew, with one exception. Led on by the miserable, but very natural misapprehension that Mrs. Cumberland was a depositary of the secret as well as herself, she spoke, and had not the least idea that she was betraying trust. That exception was the hinted suspicion that madam might have been the writer. Mrs. Cumberland sat listening, still as a statue.