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He found it on the floor： and took it eagerly up； and full of hope； and expectation； read these words：
WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE STUFF THE MATRON'S GOWN IS MADE OF？ I SHOULD LIKE TO BUY MRS。 BARTLETT ONE LIKE IT。
Alfred stood and read this again； and again he searched for some hidden symbolical meaning in the words。 High…minded； and deeply impressed with his own wrongs； he could not conceive a respectable man； paid fifteen hundred a year to spy out wrongs； being so heartless hard as to write this single comment during the earnest recital of a wrong so gigantic as his。 Poor Alfred learned this to his cost； that to put small men into great places is to create monsters。 When he had realised the bitter truth； he put the stony…hearted paper in his pocket； crept into the yard； and sat down； and； for all he could do； scalding tears ran down his cheeks。
〃Homunculi quanti sunt！〃 he sobbed； 〃homunculi quanti sunt！〃
Presently he saw Dr。 Terry come wandering towards him alone。 The Archbold had not deigned to make him safe； senectitude had done that。 Alfred； all heartsick as he was； went to the old gentleman out of veneration for the outside of his headwhich was Shakespearianand pity for his bodily infirmity； and offered him an arm。 The doctor thanked him sweetly； and said； 〃Pray； young man； have you anything to communicate？〃
Then Alfred saw that the ancient man had already forgotten his face； and so looking at him with that rare instrument of official inspection； the naked eye； had seen he was sane； and consequently taken him for a keeper。
How swiftly the mind can roam； and from what a distance gather the materials of a thought！ Flashed like lightning through Alfred's mind this line from one of his pets； the Greek philosophers：
＇Greek text＇
〃And this is the greatest stroke of art； to turn an evil into a good。〃
Now the feebleness of this aged Inspector was an evil： the thing then was to turn it into a good。 Shade of Plato； behold how thy disciple worked thee！ 〃Sir；〃 said he； sinking his voice mysteriously； 〃I have： but I am a poor man： you won't say I told you： it's as much as my place is worth。〃
〃Confidence； strict confidence；〃 replied Nestor； going over beaten tracks； for he had kept many a queer secret with the loyalty which does his profession so much honour。
〃Then； sir； there's a young gentleman confined here； who is no more mad than you and I； and never was mad。〃
〃You don't say so。〃
〃That I do； sir： and they know they are doing wrong； sir； for they stop all his letters to the Commissioners； and that is unlawful； you know。 Would you like to take a note of it all； sir？〃
The old fogie said he thought he should； and groped vaguely for his note…book： he extracted it at last like a loose tooth； fumbled with it； and dropped it： Alfred picked it up fuming inwardly。
The ancient went to write； but his fingers were weak and hesitating； and by this time he had half forgotten what he was going to say。 Alfred's voice quavered with impatience； but he fought it down； and offered as coolly as he could to write it for him： the offer was accepted； and he wrote down in a feigned hand； very clear
〃DRAYTON HOUSE； _Oct。 5。_A sane patient； Alfred Hardie； confined here from interested motives。 Has written four letters to the Commissioners； all believed to be intercepted。 Communicated to me in confidence by an attendant in the house。 Refer to the party himself； and his correspondence with the Commissioners from Dr。 Wycherley's： also to Thomas Wales； another attendant； and to Dr。 Wycherley： also to Dr。 Eskell and Mr。 Abbott； Commissioners of Lunacy。〃
After this stroke of address Alfred took the first opportunity of leaving him； and sent Frank Beverley to him。
Thus Alfred； alarmed by the hatred of Mrs。 Archbold； and racked with jealousy； exerted all his intelligence and played many cards for liberty。 One he kept in reserve； and a trump card too。 Having now no ink nor colouring matter； he did not hesitate； but out penknife； up sleeve； and drew blood from his arm； and with it wrote once more to the Commissioners； but kept this letter hidden for an ingenious purpose。 What that purpose was my reader shall divine。
CHAPTER XLII
WE left Julia Dodd a district visitor。 Working in a dense parish she learned the depths of human misery； bodily and mental。
She visited an honest widow； so poor that she could not afford a farthing dip； but sat in the dark。 When friends came to see her they sometimes brought a candle to talk by。
She visited a cripple who often thanked God sincerely for leaving her the use of one thumb。
She visited a poor creature who for sixteen years had been afflicted with a tumour in the neck； and had lain all those years on her back with her head in a plate； the heat of a pillow being intolerable。 Julia found her longing to go； and yet content to stay： and praising God in all the lulls of that pain which was her companion day and night。
But were I to enumerate the ghastly sights； the stifling loathsome odours； the vulgar horrors upon horrors this refined young lady faced； few of my readers would endure on paper for love of truth what she endured in reality for love of suffering humanity； and of Him whose servant she aspired to be。
Probably such sacrifices of selfish ease and comfort are never quite in vain； they tend in many ways to heal our own wounds： I won't say that bodily suffering is worse than mental； but it is realised far more vividly by a spectator。 The grim heart…breaking sights she saw arrayed Julia's conscience against her own grief； the more so when she found some of her most afflicted ones resigned； and even grateful。 〃What；〃 said she； 〃can they； all rags； disease and suffering； bow so cheerfully to the will of Heaven； and have I the wickedness； the impudence； to repine？〃
And then； happier than most district visitors； she was not always obliged to look on helpless； or to confine her consolations to good words。 Mrs。 Dodd was getting on famously in her groove。 She was high in the confidence of Cross and Co。； and was inspecting eighty ladies； as well as working； her salary and profits together were not less than five hundred pounds a year； and her one luxury was charity； and Julia its minister。 She carried a good honest basket； and there you might see her Bible wedged in with wine and meat； and tea and sugar： and still； as these melted in her round； a little spark of something warm would sometimes come in her own sick heart。 Thus by degrees she was attaining not earthly happiness； but a grave and pensive composure。
Yet across it gusts of earthly grief came sweeping often； but these she hid till she was herself again。
To her mother and brother she was kinder； sweeter； and dearer； if possible； than ever。 They looked on her as a saint； but she knew better； and used to blush with honest shame when they called her so。 〃Oh don't； pray don't； she would say with unaffected pain。 〃Love me as if I was an angel； but do not praise me； that turns my eyes inward and makes me see myself。 I am not a Christian yet； nor anything like one。〃
Returning one day from her duties very tired； she sat down to take off her bonnet in her own room； and presently heard snatches of an a