The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. But for perfect satisfaction, he must take a peek into the bedroom. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by his companion's intemperance. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. "Because I knew what you wanted me for!" answered Thames firmly. Every article in the trunk was fully known to her, through a recounting of the list by the doctor. These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters.
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