some question or remark; but he stopped himself,
if indeed, this was really the case, and allowed the
story to reach its termination before he spoke.

Even then he paused yet a while, and seemed
to be running over what he had just heard in his
mind, and comparing these facts with some that
dwelt in his own memory. At last he said, very
thoughtfully, and with an uncommon gravity:

"I cannot say certainly yet—and till I know
more; but it appears to me that it is possible that
I may be able to throw some light upon this
extraordinary tale."

Lethwaite remained speechless for a moment
in sheer amazement.

"In Heaven's name," he said at last—"in
Heaven's name, Cornelius, consider what you are
saying."

"I do consider," replied the philosopher
"and it is because I do so that I speak, as you
hear, with diffidence and mistrust. The reasons
I have for thinking that it is possible that I may
be possessed of information bearing on this case,
you shall hear and judge of yourself."

"Quick—quick," said Lethwaite. And the
astrologer went on.

"Do you remember that a short time since I
was in the habit of receiving visits from time to
time from a strange lady?"

"I remember it perfectly."

."And you used to joke me, if you remember,
about the regularity of her visits, and the mystery
which always attended them?"

"I remember every word we said about her."

"Well, now listen. Suddenly that lady's
visits ceased, and that at a time when she had
actually made an appointment with me for a
future day—the day but one, in fact, after I last
saw her."

"But what has this to do," cried Lethwaite,
"with what I was telling you? Why should
you imagine that this lady or her visits has
anything to do with my story?"

"Because," replied Vampi, "the object she
had in coming to me was to obtain supplies of
LAUDANUM!"

"' Laudanum,' " echoed Lethwaite; and the
old clerk took up the word, and repeated it in a
fainter key.

"Yes, laudanum. Now you see why I thought
that I might know something of importance to
the issue of this case."

"But her name—what was the name of this
lady?"

"That is what I never could find out," replied
the philosopher.

An exclamation of bitter disappointment
escaped from Lethwaite as he heard this
discouraging announcement. It seemed fatal to his
hopes. There was a silence of some duration.
It was broken by Cornelius.

"What was the date of the lady's death by
poison?" he asked, hastily.

"The twenty-seventh of January," was the
reply.

Cornelius Vampi rose from the place where he
had been sitting, and repaired to a large business-
like-looking desk, which stood at the other end
of the room. Opening this piece of furniture,
he took out a small book, such as memorandums
and appointments are kept in, and referred to one
of its pages.

"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed, clapping the
book to, and throwing it down on the desk.

"What is it?" cried Lethwaite. "What have
you discovered?"

"It was on the twenty-sixth that she was here
for the last time, and it was on the twenty-eighth
that she was to have returned on her own
appointment—an appointment which she has never
kept."

Again there was silence. The three men looked
at each other in dumb consternation.

"It must have been the same," said Lethwaite,
at last. " But how will it be possible to set the
question at rest?"

"The body," said Cornelius, "is it buried?"

"Some days ago," was the answer.

Cornelius reflected for a time. " There was
a bag, or reticule," he said, " which she used to
bring with her, which I could identify."

"Could you with certainty?"

"Yes; there was a crest engraved on the metal
of the snap. It was a half-lion rampant, holding
a sword in one of its paws."

"That is something," said Lethwaite, eagerly,
rising as he spoke. " That must be inquired after
at once. Stay," he added, suddenly, as if influenced
by a sudden inspiration. " You remember
her face?"

"Perfectly. She was ordinarily closely veiled;
but once I asked her to unveil herself, and she did
so. I remember the face very well. I saw it on another
occasion as well, now I come to remember."

"Come with me," cried Lethwaite, unable
longer to restrain himself. " Come with me at
once. We must settle this question without a
moment's delay."

Vampi was nothing loth, and in a few seconds
the three men were out in the night air, and on
their way to Beaumont-street.

It was Gilbert Penmore himself who, in the
early morning, left in charge of the night-watchman
that note which Gabrielle only received
when the time came for awakening the prisoners.

CHAPTER XXXI. AT THE BAR.

AND now the day had arrived on which the
trial of Gabrielle Pemnore for the wilful murder
of Diana Carrington was to begin. Whether the
inquiry would terminate on this same day of its
commencement was a doubtful matter, and those
who knew best about such things, and had had
most experience, were decidedly of opinion that
it would not. There was great bustle about the
court and its environs, and the number of
persons got together to witness the issue of this
important and interesting case was very great. The
newspapers next morning had a great deal to
say about the distinguished company assembled: