It was Celeste’s idea. With a small saw, conveyed to me a few days since by Thames Darrell, which I contrived to conceal upon my person, I removed a spike in the hatch, and, with the aid of some other friends, worked my way out. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. Yes, I think we have thoroughly thrashed that one out. And you promised to tell me. John knew better. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. .
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