have found it all out," said he, setting his candle down on the wash-stand; "it is as I thought."
"How, sir?"
He made no reply, but stood with his arms folded, looking on the ground. At the end of a few minutes he enquired in rather a peculiar tone:—
"I forget whether you said you saw anything when you opened your chamber door."
"No, sir, only the candlestick on the ground."
"But you heard an odd laugh? You have heard that laugh before I should think, or something like it?"
"Yes, sir: there is a woman who sews here, called Grace Poole,—she laughs in that way. She is a singular person."
"Just so. Grace Poole:—you have guessed it. She is as you say, singular,—very. Well, I shall reflect on the subject. Meantime, I am glad that you are the only person, besides myself, acquainted with the precise details of to-night's incident. You are no talking fool: say nothing about it. I will account for this
