You're not at a loss to follow me, are you? You have
examined the servants yourself, and you know what discoveries two of
them made outside Rosanna's door. Surely you know what the girl was
about yesterday, after she was taken ill? You can't guess? Oh dear me,
it's as plain as that strip of light there, at the end of the trees. At
eleven, on Thursday morning, Superintendent Seegrave (who is a mass of
human infirmity) points out to all the women servants the smear on the
door. Rosanna has her own reasons for suspecting her own things;
she takes the first opportunity of getting to her room, finds the
paint-stain on her night-gown, or petticoat, or what not, shams ill and
slips away to the town, gets the materials for making a new petticoat
or nightgown, makes it alone in her room on the Thursday night lights a
fire (not to destroy it; two of her fellow-servants are prying outside
her door, and she knows better than to make a smell of burning, and to
have a lot of tinder to get rid of)--lights a fire, I say, to dry and
iron the substitute dress after wringing it out, keeps the stained dress
hidden (probably ON her), and is at this moment occupied in making away
with it, in some convenient place, on that lonely bit of beach ahead of
us.
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