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- Чарльз Диккенс
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From
information
I
received
(
from
a
clerk
in
the
same
house
)
I
took
George
into
custody
as
having
been
seen
hanging
about
there
on
the
night
,
and
at
very
nigh
the
time
of
the
murder
,
also
as
having
been
overheard
in
high
words
with
the
deceased
on
former
occasions
—
even
threatening
him
,
as
the
witness
made
out
.
If
you
ask
me
,
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
whether
from
the
first
I
believed
George
to
be
the
murderer
,
I
tell
you
candidly
no
,
but
he
might
be
,
notwithstanding
,
and
there
was
enough
against
him
to
make
it
my
duty
to
take
him
and
get
him
kept
under
remand
.
Now
,
observe
!
"
As
Mr
.
Bucket
bends
forward
in
some
excitement
—
for
him
—
and
inaugurates
what
he
is
going
to
say
with
one
ghostly
beat
of
his
forefinger
in
the
air
,
Mademoiselle
Hortense
fixes
her
black
eyes
upon
him
with
a
dark
frown
and
sets
her
dry
lips
closely
and
firmly
together
.
"
I
went
home
,
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
,
at
night
and
found
this
young
woman
having
supper
with
my
wife
,
Mrs
.
Bucket
.
She
had
made
a
mighty
show
of
being
fond
of
Mrs
.
Bucket
from
her
first
offering
herself
as
our
lodger
,
but
that
night
she
made
more
than
ever
—
in
fact
,
overdid
it
.
Likewise
she
overdid
her
respect
,
and
all
that
,
for
the
lamented
memory
of
the
deceased
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
By
the
living
Lord
it
flashed
upon
me
,
as
I
sat
opposite
to
her
at
the
table
and
saw
her
with
a
knife
in
her
hand
,
that
she
had
done
it
!
"
Mademoiselle
is
hardly
audible
in
straining
through
her
teeth
and
lips
the
words
,
"
You
are
a
devil
.
"
"
Now
where
,
"
pursues
Mr
.
Bucket
,
"
had
she
been
on
the
night
of
the
murder
?
She
had
been
to
the
theayter
.
(
She
really
was
there
,
I
have
since
found
,
both
before
the
deed
and
after
it
.
)
I
knew
I
had
an
artful
customer
to
deal
with
and
that
proof
would
be
very
difficult
;
and
I
laid
a
trap
for
her
—
such
a
trap
as
I
never
laid
yet
,
and
such
a
venture
as
I
never
made
yet
.
I
worked
it
out
in
my
mind
while
I
was
talking
to
her
at
supper
.
When
I
went
upstairs
to
bed
,
our
house
being
small
and
this
young
woman
’
s
ears
sharp
,
I
stuffed
the
sheet
into
Mrs
.
Bucket
’
s
mouth
that
she
shouldn
’
t
say
a
word
of
surprise
and
told
her
all
about
it
.
My
dear
,
don
’
t
you
give
your
mind
to
that
again
,
or
I
shall
link
your
feet
together
at
the
ankles
.
"
Mr
.
Bucket
,
breaking
off
,
has
made
a
noiseless
descent
upon
mademoiselle
and
laid
his
heavy
hand
upon
her
shoulder
.
"
What
is
the
matter
with
you
now
?
"
she
asks
him
.
"
Don
’
t
you
think
any
more
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Bucket
with
admonitory
finger
,
"
of
throwing
yourself
out
of
window
.
That
’
s
what
’
s
the
matter
with
me
.
Come
!
Just
take
my
arm
.
You
needn
’
t
get
up
;
I
’
ll
sit
down
by
you
.
Now
take
my
arm
,
will
you
?
I
’
m
a
married
man
,
you
know
;
you
’
re
acquainted
with
my
wife
.
Just
take
my
arm
.
"
Vainly
endeavouring
to
moisten
those
dry
lips
,
with
a
painful
sound
she
struggles
with
herself
and
complies
.
"
Now
we
’
re
all
right
again
.
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
,
this
case
could
never
have
been
the
case
it
is
but
for
Mrs
.
Bucket
,
who
is
a
woman
in
fifty
thousand
—
in
a
hundred
and
fifty
thousand
!
To
throw
this
young
woman
off
her
guard
,
I
have
never
set
foot
in
our
house
since
,
though
I
’
ve
communicated
with
Mrs
.
Bucket
in
the
baker
’
s
loaves
and
in
the
milk
as
often
as
required
.
My
whispered
words
to
Mrs
.
Bucket
when
she
had
the
sheet
in
her
mouth
were
,
’
My
dear
,
can
you
throw
her
off
continually
with
natural
accounts
of
my
suspicions
against
George
,
and
this
,
and
that
,
and
t
’
other
?
Can
you
do
without
rest
and
keep
watch
upon
her
night
and
day
?
Can
you
undertake
to
say
,
’
She
shall
do
nothing
without
my
knowledge
,
she
shall
be
my
prisoner
without
suspecting
it
,
she
shall
no
more
escape
from
me
than
from
death
,
and
her
life
shall
be
my
life
,
and
her
soul
my
soul
,
till
I
have
got
her
,
if
she
did
this
murder
?
’
Mrs
.
Bucket
says
to
me
,
as
well
as
she
could
speak
on
account
of
the
sheet
,
’
Bucket
,
I
can
!
’
And
she
has
acted
up
to
it
glorious
!
"
"
Lies
!
"
mademoiselle
interposes
.
"
All
lies
,
my
friend
!
"
"
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
,
how
did
my
calculations
come
out
under
these
circumstances
?
When
I
calculated
that
this
impetuous
young
woman
would
overdo
it
in
new
directions
,
was
I
wrong
or
right
?
I
was
right
.
What
does
she
try
to
do
?
Don
’
t
let
it
give
you
a
turn
?
To
throw
the
murder
on
her
ladyship
.
"
Sir
Leicester
rises
from
his
chair
and
staggers
down
again
.
"
And
she
got
encouragement
in
it
from
hearing
that
I
was
always
here
,
which
was
done
a
-
purpose
.
Now
,
open
that
pocket
-
book
of
mine
,
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
if
I
may
take
the
liberty
of
throwing
it
towards
you
,
and
look
at
the
letters
sent
to
me
,
each
with
the
two
words
’
Lady
Dedlock
’
in
it
.
Open
the
one
directed
to
yourself
,
which
I
stopped
this
very
morning
,
and
read
the
three
words
’
Lady
Dedlock
,
Murderess
’
in
it
.
These
letters
have
been
falling
about
like
a
shower
of
lady
-
birds
.
What
do
you
say
now
to
Mrs
.
Bucket
,
from
her
spy
-
place
having
seen
them
all
’
written
by
this
young
woman
?
What
do
you
say
to
Mrs
.
Bucket
having
,
within
this
half
-
hour
,
secured
the
corresponding
ink
and
paper
,
fellow
half
-
sheets
and
what
not
?
What
do
you
say
to
Mrs
.
Bucket
having
watched
the
posting
of
’
em
every
one
by
this
young
woman
,
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
?
"
Mr
.
Bucket
asks
,
triumphant
in
his
admiration
of
his
lady
’
s
genius
.
Two
things
are
especially
observable
as
Mr
.
Bucket
proceeds
to
a
conclusion
.
First
,
that
he
seems
imperceptibly
to
establish
a
dreadful
right
of
property
in
mademoiselle
.
Secondly
,
that
the
very
atmosphere
she
breathes
seems
to
narrow
and
contract
about
her
as
if
a
close
net
or
a
pall
were
being
drawn
nearer
and
yet
nearer
around
her
breathless
figure
.
"
There
is
no
doubt
that
her
ladyship
was
on
the
spot
at
the
eventful
period
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
,
"
and
my
foreign
friend
here
saw
her
,
I
believe
,
from
the
upper
part
of
the
staircase
.
Her
ladyship
and
George
and
my
foreign
friend
were
all
pretty
close
on
one
another
’
s
heels
.
But
that
don
’
t
signify
any
more
,
so
I
’
ll
not
go
into
it
.
I
found
the
wadding
of
the
pistol
with
which
the
deceased
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
was
shot
.
It
was
a
bit
of
the
printed
description
of
your
house
at
Chesney
Wold
.
Not
much
in
that
,
you
’
ll
say
,
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
.
No
.
But
when
my
foreign
friend
here
is
so
thoroughly
off
her
guard
as
to
think
it
a
safe
time
to
tear
up
the
rest
of
that
leaf
,
and
when
Mrs
.
Bucket
puts
the
pieces
together
and
finds
the
wadding
wanting
,
it
begins
to
look
like
Queer
Street
.
"
"
These
are
very
long
lies
,
"
mademoiselle
interposes
.
"
You
prose
great
deal
.
Is
it
that
you
have
almost
all
finished
,
or
are
you
speaking
always
?
"
"
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
,
"
proceeds
Mr
.
Bucket
,
who
delights
in
a
full
title
and
does
violence
to
himself
when
he
dispenses
with
any
fragment
of
it
,
"
the
last
point
in
the
case
which
I
am
now
going
to
mention
shows
the
necessity
of
patience
in
our
business
,
and
never
doing
a
thing
in
a
hurry
.
I
watched
this
young
woman
yesterday
without
her
knowledge
when
she
was
looking
at
the
funeral
,
in
company
with
my
wife
,
who
planned
to
take
her
there
;
and
I
had
so
much
to
convict
her
,
and
I
saw
such
an
expression
in
her
face
,
and
my
mind
so
rose
against
her
malice
towards
her
ladyship
,
and
the
time
was
altogether
such
a
time
for
bringing
down
what
you
may
call
retribution
upon
her
,
that
if
I
had
been
a
younger
hand
with
less
experience
,
I
should
have
taken
her
,
certain
.
Equally
,
last
night
,
when
her
ladyship
,
as
is
so
universally
admired
I
am
sure
,
come
home
looking
—
why
,
Lord
,
a
man
might
almost
say
like
Venus
rising
from
the
ocean
—
it
was
so
unpleasant
and
inconsistent
to
think
of
her
being
charged
with
a
murder
of
which
she
was
innocent
that
I
felt
quite
to
want
to
put
an
end
to
the
job
.
What
should
I
have
lost
?
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
,
Baronet
,
I
should
have
lost
the
weapon
.
My
prisoner
here
proposed
to
Mrs
.
Bucket
,
after
the
departure
of
the
funeral
,
that
they
should
go
per
bus
a
little
ways
into
the
country
and
take
tea
at
a
very
decent
house
of
entertainment
.
Now
,
near
that
house
of
entertainment
there
’
s
a
piece
of
water
.
At
tea
,
my
prisoner
got
up
to
fetch
her
pocket
handkercher
from
the
bedroom
where
the
bonnets
was
;
she
was
rather
a
long
time
gone
and
came
back
a
little
out
of
wind
.
As
soon
as
they
came
home
this
was
reported
to
me
by
Mrs
.
Bucket
,
along
with
her
observations
and
suspicions
.
I
had
the
piece
of
water
dragged
by
moonlight
,
in
presence
of
a
couple
of
our
men
,
and
the
pocket
pistol
was
brought
up
before
it
had
been
there
half
-
a
-
dozen
hours
.
Now
,
my
dear
,
put
your
arm
a
little
further
through
mine
,
and
hold
it
steady
,
and
I
shan
’
t
hurt
you
!
"
In
a
trice
Mr
.
Bucket
snaps
a
handcuff
on
her
wrist
.
"
That
’
s
one
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
Now
the
other
,
darling
.
Two
,
and
all
told
!
"
He
rises
;
she
rises
too
.
"
Where
,
"
she
asks
him
,
darkening
her
large
eyes
until
their
drooping
lids
almost
conceal
them
—
and
yet
they
stare
,
"
where
is
your
false
,
your
treacherous
,
and
cursed
wife
?
"
"
She
’
s
gone
forrard
to
the
Police
Office
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
You
’
ll
see
her
there
,
my
dear
.
"
"
I
would
like
to
kiss
her
!
"
exclaims
Mademoiselle
Hortense
,
panting
tigress
-
like
.
"
You
’
d
bite
her
,
I
suspect
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
I
would
!
"
making
her
eyes
very
large
.
"
I
would
love
to
tear
her
limb
from
limb
.
"
"
Bless
you
,
darling
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
with
the
greatest
composure
,
"
I
’
m
fully
prepared
to
hear
that
.
Your
sex
have
such
a
surprising
animosity
against
one
another
when
you
do
differ
.
You
don
’
t
mind
me
half
so
much
,
do
you
?
"
"
No
.
Though
you
are
a
devil
still
.
"
"
Angel
and
devil
by
turns
,
eh
?
"
cries
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
But
I
am
in
my
regular
employment
,
you
must
consider
.
Let
me
put
your
shawl
tidy
.
I
’
ve
been
lady
’
s
maid
to
a
good
many
before
now
.
Anything
wanting
to
the
bonnet
?
There
’
s
a
cab
at
the
door
.
"
Mademoiselle
Hortense
,
casting
an
indignant
eye
at
the
glass
,
shakes
herself
perfectly
neat
in
one
shake
and
looks
,
to
do
her
justice
,
uncommonly
genteel
.
"
Listen
then
,
my
angel
,
"
says
she
after
several
sarcastic
nods
.
"
You
are
very
spiritual
.
But
can
you
restore
him
back
to
life
?
"
Mr
.
Bucket
answers
,
"
Not
exactly
.
"
"
That
is
droll
.
Listen
yet
one
time
.
You
are
very
spiritual
.
Can
you
make
a
honourable
lady
of
her
?
"
"
Don
’
t
be
so
malicious
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
Or
a
haughty
gentleman
of
HIM
?
"
cries
mademoiselle
,
referring
to
Sir
Leicester
with
ineffable
disdain
.
"
Eh
!
Oh
,
then
regard
him
!
The
poor
infant
!
Ha
!
Ha
!
Ha
!
"
"
Come
,
come
,
why
this
is
worse
PARLAYING
than
the
other
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
Come
along
!
"
"
You
cannot
do
these
things
?
Then
you
can
do
as
you
please
with
me
.
It
is
but
the
death
,
it
is
all
the
same
.
Let
us
go
,
my
angel
.
Adieu
,
you
old
man
,
grey
.
I
pity
you
,
and
I
despise
you
!
"
With
these
last
words
she
snaps
her
teeth
together
as
if
her
mouth
closed
with
a
spring
.
It
is
impossible
to
describe
how
Mr
.
Bucket
gets
her
out
,
but
he
accomplishes
that
feat
in
a
manner
so
peculiar
to
himself
,
enfolding
and
pervading
her
like
a
cloud
,
and
hovering
away
with
her
as
if
he
were
a
homely
Jupiter
and
she
the
object
of
his
affections
.
Sir
Leicester
,
left
alone
,
remains
in
the
same
attitude
,
as
though
he
were
still
listening
and
his
attention
were
still
occupied
.
At
length
he
gazes
round
the
empty
room
,
and
finding
it
deserted
,
rises
unsteadily
to
his
feet
,
pushes
back
his
chair
,
and
walks
a
few
steps
,
supporting
himself
by
the
table
Then
he
stops
,
and
with
more
of
those
inarticulate
sounds
,
lifts
up
his
eyes
and
seems
to
stare
at
something
.
Heaven
knows
what
he
sees
.
The
green
,
green
woods
of
Chesney
Wold
,
the
noble
house
,
the
pictures
of
his
forefathers
,
strangers
defacing
them
,
officers
of
police
coarsely
handling
his
most
precious
heirlooms
,
thousands
of
fingers
pointing
at
him
,
thousands
of
faces
sneering
at
him
.
But
if
such
shadows
flit
before
him
to
his
bewilderment
,
there
is
one
other
shadow
which
he
can
name
with
something
like
distinctness
even
yet
and
to
which
alone
he
addresses
his
tearing
of
his
white
hair
and
his
extended
arms
.
It
is
she
in
association
with
whom
,
saving
that
she
has
been
for
years
a
main
fibre
of
the
root
of
his
dignity
and
pride
,
he
has
never
had
a
selfish
thought
.
It
is
she
whom
he
has
loved
,
admired
,
honoured
,
and
set
up
for
the
world
to
respect
.
It
is
she
who
,
at
the
core
of
all
the
constrained
formalities
and
conventionalities
of
his
life
,
has
been
a
stock
of
living
tenderness
and
love
,
susceptible
as
nothing
else
is
of
being
struck
with
the
agony
he
feels
.
He
sees
her
,
almost
to
the
exclusion
of
himself
,
and
cannot
bear
to
look
upon
her
cast
down
from
the
high
place
she
has
graced
so
well
.
And
even
to
the
point
of
his
sinking
on
the
ground
,
oblivious
of
his
suffering
,
he
can
yet
pronounce
her
name
with
something
like
distinctness
in
the
midst
of
those
intrusive
sounds
,
and
in
a
tone
of
mourning
and
compassion
rather
than
reproach
.
Inspector
Bucket
of
the
Detective
has
not
yet
struck
his
great
blow
,
as
just
now
chronicled
,
but
is
yet
refreshing
himself
with
sleep
preparatory
to
his
field
-
day
,
when
through
the
night
and
along
the
freezing
wintry
roads
a
chaise
and
pair
comes
out
of
Lincolnshire
,
making
its
way
towards
London
.
Railroads
shall
soon
traverse
all
this
country
,
and
with
a
rattle
and
a
glare
the
engine
and
train
shall
shoot
like
a
meteor
over
the
wide
night
-
landscape
,
turning
the
moon
paler
;
but
as
yet
such
things
are
non
-
existent
in
these
parts
,
though
not
wholly
unexpected
.
Preparations
are
afoot
,
measurements
are
made
,
ground
is
staked
out
.
Bridges
are
begun
,
and
their
not
yet
united
piers
desolately
look
at
one
another
over
roads
and
streams
like
brick
and
mortar
couples
with
an
obstacle
to
their
union
;
fragments
of
embankments
are
thrown
up
and
left
as
precipices
with
torrents
of
rusty
carts
and
barrows
tumbling
over
them
;
tripods
of
tall
poles
appear
on
hilltops
,
where
there
are
rumours
of
tunnels
;
everything
looks
chaotic
and
abandoned
in
full
hopelessness
.
Along
the
freezing
roads
,
and
through
the
night
,
the
post
-
chaise
makes
its
way
without
a
railroad
on
its
mind
.
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
so
many
years
housekeeper
at
Chesney
Wold
,
sits
within
the
chaise
;
and
by
her
side
sits
Mrs
.
Bagnet
with
her
grey
cloak
and
umbrella
.
The
old
girl
would
prefer
the
bar
in
front
,
as
being
exposed
to
the
weather
and
a
primitive
sort
of
perch
more
in
accordance
with
her
usual
course
of
travelling
,
but
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
is
too
thoughtful
of
her
comfort
to
admit
of
her
proposing
it
.
The
old
lady
cannot
make
enough
of
the
old
girl
.
She
sits
,
in
her
stately
manner
,
holding
her
hand
,
and
regardless
of
its
roughness
,
puts
it
often
to
her
lips
.
"
You
are
a
mother
,
my
dear
soul
,
"
says
she
many
times
,
"
and
you
found
out
my
George
’
s
mother
!
"
"
Why
,
George
,
"
returns
Mrs
.
Bagnet
,
"
was
always
free
with
me
,
ma
’
am
,
and
when
he
said
at
our
house
to
my
Woolwich
that
of
all
the
things
my
Woolwich
could
have
to
think
of
when
he
grew
to
be
a
man
,
the
comfortablest
would
be
that
he
had
never
brought
a
sorrowful
line
into
his
mother
’
s
face
or
turned
a
hair
of
her
head
grey
,
then
I
felt
sure
,
from
his
way
,
that
something
fresh
had
brought
his
own
mother
into
his
mind
.
I
had
often
known
him
say
to
me
,
in
past
times
,
that
he
had
behaved
bad
to
her
.
"
"
Never
,
my
dear
!
"
returns
Mrs
.
Rouncewell
,
bursting
into
tears
.
"
My
blessing
on
him
,
never
!
He
was
always
fond
of
me
,
and
loving
to
me
,
was
my
George
!
But
he
had
a
bold
spirit
,
and
he
ran
a
little
wild
and
went
for
a
soldier
.
And
I
know
he
waited
at
first
,
in
letting
us
know
about
himself
,
till
he
should
rise
to
be
an
officer
;
and
when
he
didn
’
t
rise
,
I
know
he
considered
himself
beneath
us
,
and
wouldn
’
t
be
a
disgrace
to
us
.
For
he
had
a
lion
heart
,
had
my
George
,
always
from
a
baby
!
"
The
old
lady
’
s
hands
stray
about
her
as
of
yore
,
while
she
recalls
,
all
in
a
tremble
,
what
a
likely
lad
,
what
a
fine
lad
,
what
a
gay
good
-
humoured
clever
lad
he
was
;
how
they
all
took
to
him
down
at
Chesney
Wold
;
how
Sir
Leicester
took
to
him
when
he
was
a
young
gentleman
;
how
the
dogs
took
to
him
;
how
even
the
people
who
had
been
angry
with
him
forgave
him
the
moment
he
was
gone
,
poor
boy
.
