“Then Janet was at home,” said Richard.  “Call Janet.”

A trim, intelligent-looking Nova Scotia girl was summoned from the basement kitchen.

“Janet,” said Richard, “do you remember the day, about three weeks ago, that Mrs. Spooner was absent at South Millville?”

“Yes,” replied the girl, without hesitation.  “It was the day before”—­and then she stopped.

“Exactly; it was the day before my cousin was killed.  Now I want you to recollect whether any letter or note or written message of any description was left for me at this house on that day.”

Janet reflected.  “I think there was, Mr. Richard,—­a bit of paper like.”

Mr. Taggett riveted his eyes on the girl.

“Who brought the paper?” demanded Richard.

“It was one of the Murphy boys, I think.”

“Did you hand it to me?”

“No, Mr. Richard, you had gone out.  It was just after breakfast.”

“You gave it to me when I came home to dinner, then?”

“No,” returned Janet, becoming confused with a dim perception that something had gone wrong and she was committing herself.

“I remember, I didn’t come home.  I dined at the Slocums’.  What did you do with that paper?”

“I put it on the table in your room up-stairs.”

Mr. Taggett’s eyes gleamed a little at this.

“And that is all you can say about it?” inquired Richard, with a fallen countenance.

Janet reflected.  She reflected a long while this time.  “No, Mr. Shackford:  an hour or so afterwards, when I went up to do the chamber-work, I saw that the wind had blow the paper off of the table.  I picked up the note and put it back; but the wind blew it off again.”

“What then?”

“Then I shut up the note in one of the big books, meaning to tell you of it, and—­and I forgot it!  Oh, Mr. Richard, have I done something dreadful?”

“Dreadful!” cried Richard.  “Janet, I could hug you!”

“Oh, Mr. Richard,” said Janet with a little coquettish movement natural to every feminine thing, bird, flower, or human being, “you’ve always such a pleasant way with you.”

Then there was a moment of dead silence.  Mr. Spooner saw that the matter, whatever it was, was settled.

“You needn’t wait, Janet!” she said, with a severe, mystified air.

“We are greatly obliged to you, Mr. Spooner, not to mention Janet,” said Richard; “and if Mr. Taggett has no questions to ask we will not detain you.”

Mrs. Spooner turned her small amiable orbs on Richard’s companion.  That silent little man Mr. Taggett!  “He doesn’t look like much,” was the landlady’s unuttered reflection; and indeed he did not present a spirited appearance.  Nevertheless Mrs. Spooner followed him down the street with her curious gaze until he and Richard passed out of sight.