in possession of the empty house. I never saw
him again; I never heard more of him or of
his wife. Out of the dark byways of villany
and deceit, they had crawled across our path—
into the same byways they crawled back secretly,
and were lost.

In a quarter of an hour after leaving Forest-road,
I was at home again.

But few words sufficed to tell Laura and
Marian how my desperate venture had ended,
and what the next event in our lives was likely
to be. I left all details to be described later in
the day; and hastened back to St. John's Wood,
to see the person of whom Count Fosco had
ordered the fly, when he went to meet Laura at
the station.

The address in my possession led me to some
"livery stables," about a quarter of a mile
distant from Forest-road. The proprietor proved
to be a civil and respectable man. When I
explained that an important family matter obliged
me to ask him to refer to his books, for the
purpose of ascertaining a date with which the
record of his business transactions might supply
me, he offered no objection to granting my
request. The book was produced; and there,
under the date of "July 29th, 1850," the order
was entered, in these words:

"Brougham to Count Fosco, 5, Forest-road.
Two o'clock. (John Owen)."

I found, on inquiry, that the name of "John
Owen," attached to the entry, referred to the
man who had been employed to drive the fly.
He was then at work in the stable-yard, and
was sent for to see me, at my request.

"Do you remember driving a gentleman, in
the month of July last, from Number Five,
Forest-road, to the Waterloo-bridge station?"
I asked.

"Well, sir," said the man; "I can't exactly
say I do."

"Perhaps you remember the gentleman
himself? Can you call to mind driving a foreigner, last
summer—a tall gentleman, and remarkably fat?"

The man's face brightened directly. "I
remember him, sir! The fattest gentleman as
ever I see—and the heaviest customer as ever
I drove. Yes, yes—I call him to mind, sir. We
did go to the station, and it was from Forest-road.
There was a parrot, or summut like it,
screeching in the window. The gentleman was
in a mortal hurry about the lady's luggage; and
he give me a handsome present for looking sharp
and getting the boxes."

Getting the boxes! I recollected immediately
that Laura's own account of herself, on her
arrival in London, described her luggage as being
collected for her by some person whom Count
Fosco brought with him to the station. This
was the man.

"Did you see the lady?" I asked. "What
did she look like? Was she young or old?"

"Well, sir, what with the hurry and the
crowd of people pushing about, I can't rightly
say what the lady looked like. I can't call
nothing to mind about her that I know of—
excepting her name."

"You remember her name!"

"Yes, sir. Her name was Lady Glyde."

"How do you come to remember that, when
you have forgotten what she looked like?"

The man smiled, and shifted his feet in some
little embarrassment.

"Why, to tell you the truth, sir," he said,
"I hadn't been long married at that time; and
my wife's name, before she changed it for mine,
was the same as the lady's—meaning the name
of Glyde, sir. The lady mentioned it herself.
'Is your name on your boxes, ma'am?' says I.
' Yes,' says she, 'my name is on my luggage—it
is Lady Glyde.' 'Come!' I says to myself, 'I've
a bad head for gentlefolks' names in general—
but this one comes like an old friend, at any
rate.' I can't say nothing about the time, sir:
if might be nigh on a year ago, or it mightn't.
But I can swear to the stout gentleman, and
swear to the lady's name."

There was no need that he should remember
the time; the date was positively established by
his master's order-book. I felt at once that the
means were at last in my power of striking
down the whole conspiracy at a blow with the
irresistible weapon of plain fact. Without a
moment's hesitation, I took the proprietor of the
livery stables aside, and told him what the real
importance was of the evidence of his order-book
and the evidence of his driver. An
arrangement to compensate him for the temporary
loss of the man's services was easily made; and
a copy of the entry in the book was taken by
myself, and certified as true by the master's own
signature. I left the livery stables, having
settled that John Owen was to hold himself at
my disposal for the next three days, or for a
longer period, if necessity required it.

I now had in my possession all the papers
that I wanted; the district registrar's own copy
of the certificate of death, and Sir Percival's
dated letter to the Count, being safe in my
pocket-book.

With this written evidence about me, and
with the coachman's answers fresh in my
memory, I next turned my steps, for the first
time since the beginning of all my inquiries,
in the direction of Mr. Kyrle's office. One
of my objects, in paying him this second
visit, was, necessarily, to tell him what I had
done. The other, was to warn him of my
resolution to take my wife to Limmeridge the
next morning, and to have her publicly received
and recognised in her uncle's house. I left it
to Mr. Kyrle to decide, under these
circumstances, and in Mr. Gilmore's absence, whether
he was or was not bound, as the family solicitor,
to be present, on that occasion, in the family
interests.

I will say nothing of Mr. Kyrle's amazement,
or of the terms in which he expressed his opinion
of my conduct, from the first stage of the
investigation to the last. It is only necessary to
mention that he at once decided on accompanying
us to Cumberland.

We started, the next morning, by the early
train. Laura, Marian, Mr. Kyrle, and myself in