THIRD NARRATIVE
6. CHAPTER VI
(continued)
"Some such suspicion," I answered, "crossed my own mind,
as soon as I opened the letter."
"Exactly! And when you had read the letter, you pitied the poor creature,
and couldn't find it in your heart to suspect her. Does you credit,
my dear sir--does you credit!"
"But suppose it turns out that I did wear the nightgown?
What then?"
"I don't see how the fact can be proved," said Mr. Bruff.
"But assuming the proof to be possible, the vindication of your
innocence would be no easy matter. We won't go into that, now.
Let us wait and see whether Rachel hasn't suspected you on
the evidence of the nightgown only."
"Good God, how coolly you talk of Rachel suspecting me!"
I broke out. "What right has she to suspect Me, on any evidence,
of being a thief?"
"A very sensible question, my dear sir. Rather hotly put--
but well worth considering for all that. What puzzles you,
puzzles me too. Search your memory, and tell me this. Did anything
happen while you were staying at the house--not, of course,
to shake Rachel's belief in your honour--but, let us say,
to shake her belief (no matter with how little reason) in your
principles generally?"
I started, in ungovernable agitation, to my feet. The lawyer's
question reminded me, for the first time since I had left England,
that something HAD happened.
In the eighth chapter of Betteredge's Narrative, an allusion will be
found to the arrival of a foreigner and a stranger at my aunt's house,
who came to see me on business. The nature of his business was this.
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