George had been puzzled that the woman’s countenance did not seem new to him, and he was puzzled and disturbed also that the expression on the face of the Cheap Jack was quite new. Whatever the hunchback had in his head, however, he was not unfriendly in his manner. “Good morning, George, my dear!” he cried, cheerfully; “you’ve seen my missus before, eh, George?” George was just about to say no, when he remembered that he had seen the woman, and when and where. “Dreadful night that was, Mr. Sannel!” said the Cheap Jack’s wife, with a smile on her large mouth. George assented, and by the hospitable invitation of the newly married couple he followed them into the dwelling part of the house, trying as he did so to decide upon a plan for his future conduct. Here at last was a woman who could probably tell all that he wanted to know about the mystery on which he had hoped to trade, and—the Cheap Jack had married her. If any thing could be got out of the knowledge of Jan’s history, the Cheap Jack, and not George, would get it now. The hasty resolution to which George came was to try to share what he could not keep entirely to himself. He flattered himself he could be very civil, and—he had got the letter. It proved useful. George was resolved not to show it until he had got at something of what the large-mouthed woman had to tell; and, as she wanted to see the letter, she made a virtue of necessity, and seemed anxious to help the miller’s man to the utmost of her power. The history of her connection with Jan’s babyhood was soon told, and she told it truthfully.