"I had believed you to be guilty (as I have owned), more because I
wanted you to be guilty than for any other reason. And now, the Sergeant
had come round by a totally different way to the same conclusion
(respecting the nightgown) as mine! And I had got the dress that was
the only proof against you! And not a living creature knew it--yourself
included! I am afraid to tell you how I felt when I called these things
to mind--you would hate my memory for ever afterwards."
At that place, Betteredge looked up from the letter.
"Not a glimmer of light so far, Mr. Franklin," said the old man, taking
off his heavy tortoiseshell spectacles, and pushing Rosanna Spearman's
confession a little away from him. "Have you come to any conclusion,
sir, in your own mind, while I have been reading?"
"Finish the letter first, Betteredge; there may be something to
enlighten us at the end of it. I shall have a word or two to say to you
after that."
"Very good, sir. I'll just rest my eyes, and then I'll go on again. In
the meantime, Mr. Franklin--I don't want to hurry you--but would you
mind telling me, in one word, whether you see your way out of this
dreadful mess yet?"
"I see my way back to London," I said, "to consult Mr.
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