Upon my word her encouragement put fresh life into me, and I grew less despondent. Determined to leave Deering as quickly as possible, I went to see about a trap, and here I met with another disappointment. I could not get a trap till the following day. "We shall have to wait until to-morrow, Sophy," I said. "So let us make ourselves comfortable. I wonder if there's a local newspaper about. I will read you the news if there is; it will help to pass the time." Upon what slender foundations do momentous issues hang! A pregnant proof of this truism was at hand. There was no newspaper printed at Deering, but at Fleetdyke, the nearest place of importance, was published a small daily sheet called the _Fleetdyke Herald_. The landlord at the inn at which we put up did not take in the paper, but it happened that a traveller, making pause there, had left behind him two copies of as recent date as yesterday and the day before. These the landlord brought in to me, and I sat down to entertain Sophy, who prepared herself for an hour of great enjoyment. "What things in a newspaper do you like best, Sophy?" I asked. "Perlice Courts," she replied, "when I gets the chance of anybody reading 'em out--about once in a bloo moon, yer know." "Police Courts it shall be," I said. "I have a fancy for them myself." So evidently had the Editor of the _Fleetdyke Herald_, who seemed to make it a special feature of his paper to gather the police-court news of a rather wide district around his locality as an attraction to his subscribers. I had read aloud to Sophy four or five of the most entertaining cases when I was startled by the heading, "Tampering with a registrar's book. Strange case." I read the report under this heading rapidly to myself, and Sophy, observing that something had startled me, sat in silence and did not speak a word. The case was not concluded in the paper I was reading from. The last line ran: "Adjourned till to-morrow for the production of an important witness from London." I looked at the date of the newspaper--it was the day before yesterday. The other paper which I had not yet taken up was of yesterday's date, and I found in it the conclusion of the case. The first day's report, with its pregnant heading, startled me, as I have said. The second day's report startled me still more. By the merest accident my fingers were on the pulse of the torture of Emilia's life. I ran down to the bar; the landlord stood behind it, wiping some glasses. "Is the village of Glasserton at a great distance from here?" I asked. "Oh, no," replied the landlord, "about eleven miles. You can shorten it by two miles if you cut through Deering Woods." I glanced at the clock--half-past four. "It's a melancholy walk through the woods," remarked the landlord, "but to be sure the moon will rise at ten." "Can anyone show me the short cut?" I asked. "I wish particularly to go to Glasserton to-night." "My daughter will put you in the way of it."