The Story Continued by Marian Halcombe

of my letter to the lawyer to show him how serious the case was, and I represented our removal to Limmeridge as the only compromise which would prevent the danger and distress of Laura’s present position from inevitably affecting her uncle as well as herself at no very distant time. When I had done, and had sealed and directed the two envelopes, I went back with the letters to Laura’s room, to show her that they were written. “Has anybody disturbed you?” I asked, when she opened the door to me. “Nobody has knocked,” she replied. “But I heard someone in the outer room.” “Was it a man or a woman?” “A woman. I heard the rustling of her gown.” “A rustling like silk?” “Yes, like silk.” Madame Fosco had evidently been watching outside. The mischief she might do by herself was little to be feared. But the mischief she might do, as a willing instrument in her husband’s hands, was too formidable to be overlooked. “What became of the rustling of the gown when you no longer heard it in the anteroom?” I inquired. “Did you hear it go past your wall, along the passage?” “Yes. I kept still and listened, and just heard it.” “Which way did it go?”