"You are sure it was Mr. Inglethorp's voice you heard?"

"Oh, yes, sir, whose else's could it be?"

"Well, what happened next?"

"Later, I came back to the hall; but it was all quiet. At five
o'clock, Mrs. Inglethorp rang the bell and told me to bring her a
cup of tea--nothing to eat--to the boudoir. She was looking
dreadful--so white and upset. 'Dorcas,' she says, 'I've had a
great shock.' 'I'm sorry for that, m'm,' I says. 'You'll feel
better after a nice hot cup of tea, m'm.' She had something in
her hand. I don't know if it was a letter, or just a piece of
paper, but it had writing on it, and she kept staring at it,
almost as if she couldn't believe what was written there. She
whispered to herself, as though she had forgotten I was there:
'These few words--and everything's changed.' And then she says to
me: 'Never trust a man, Dorcas, they're not worth it!' I hurried
off, and got her a good strong cup of tea, and she thanked me,
and said she'd feel better when she'd drunk it. 'I don't know
what to do,' she says. 'Scandal between husband and wife is a
dreadful thing, Dorcas. I'd rather hush it up if I could.' Mrs.
Cavendish came in just then, so she didn't say any more."

"She still had the letter, or whatever it was, in her hand?"
"Yes, sir."

"What would she be likely to do with it afterwards?"