Mrs. Judson leaned back in her chair, gasping for breath. Jane thought that she was fainting, and was about to call for help, but a low voice recalled her. “No, no, I must bear this alone. Is there more for me to learn? Did she tell you nothing about herself?” “Nothing; I did ask some questions, but she only cried and kept away from me.” “Did no person come to see her?” “Not a soul.” “You spoke of writing; what became of that?” “Oh, it was letters; she sent them away.” “To whom were these letters directed?” “That I don’t know; she always managed to get them off secretly.” “And this is all you know of her?” “Pretty much.” “But I have no certainty; this book may have been stolen. I cannot be sure that the poor girl is the one I am interested in,” said Mrs. Judson, seized by a very natural doubt. “Yes, you can,” answered Jane, bluntly. “You asked about letters. That poor girl left one letter which will tell you something about her. There it is in her own handwriting, if you know that,—look and see.” Mrs. Judson took the letter from Kelly’s hand; the address seemed to strike her with astonishment, and her hands shook as she unfolded it. The letter was a long one, but she read it twice, and seemed to ponder over it after every word had been gathered. Jane sat still reading the lady’s face, which for a time came out of its cold composure and was disturbed. “Do you know the writing, madam?” Mrs. Judson looked up and answered the question, abrupt as it was. “Yes, it is her writing. You will leave the letter with me.” “No, madam, I cannot do that. It would be like robbing the dead. I mean to put that letter in the mail by daylight to-morrow morning. The man shall get it, but I have taken a copy, and that you may have and no extra charge. You’ve acted the lady by me, and I mean to act the lady by you; give me that letter and take this, it’s the same thing word for word.” Mrs. Judson folded the letter and exchanged it for that Jane Kelly held in her hand. “If this does not satisfy you, there is a way that will. Come and look upon her where she lies.” Mrs. Judson gazed on the woman who made this rude proposal in absolute terror for an instant, then pressing one hand over her eyes she seemed to reflect, and at last said, shuddering visibly,— “Tell me how to get there without observation, and I will come.” “Could you get up by daybreak?” asked Jane. Mrs. Judson turned her head wearily against the back of her chair. “I shall not go to bed. It would be of no use.” “So much the better,” answered Jane; “then just as it is getting light I will come here after you. It will be best to walk.” “Yes, that will be best.” “I will see that a gate is left unfastened and that everything is ready.” “Must I go into that dreadful building?” “What, into the hospital? not at all. She is in the dead-house outside.”