"Well then," continued Snaffle, "she was a Mrs. Fraudhurst, a widow
governess and companion to a rich heiress, niece of Sir Jasper Coleman
of Vellenaux in Devonshire. How she got out here, and in what way she
managed to hook Sir Lexicon, I cannot imagine, but I will find it all
out at our next interview, depend upon it."

"Stop! By Jupiter! Did you say governess, Baronet, name Coleman, place,
Vellenaux, Devonshire? Here's a go! Not a word. Here, Ramsammy, bring
the fyle of English newspapers from the library, quick." The papers were
handed to him, and, selecting _Bell's Life_, Harry Racer commenced
reading the following paragraph:--

"Frightful railway accident. Death of Sir Ralph Coleman of Vellenaux,
Devonshire. Startling disclosures. Stolen Will. Heiress defrauded.
Flight from the country of accomplice, the family governess. Full
particulars in our next issue."

"That's her, the planter's lady. Large as life and twice as natural. The
thing is as clear as mud in a wine glass. All plain and smooth as a
three mile course. The mystery is solved. She recognized you at the
ball, saw that you were mystified, but would, doubtless, remember her if
you met again. You call the next morning. She refuses to see you on the
plea of indisposition. Takes the alarm, bolts off the course, and makes
for the open country, where she, doubtless, intends to remain until she
hears that you are safe on your road to Secunderabad; and now, old
fellow, what are you going to do? There is money to be made out of this
matter if you are not too squeamish," and here Racer tipped a knowing
wink to his friend of the Lancers.