narrative. Happily he disclaims any such abnormal powers of memory.
He can remember nothing but a chance phrase or two which some
secondary circumstance fixed indelibly on his mind. But he can
remember a great number of little facts bearing on the relations
between his master and the Russian. These facts, considered singly,
may seem of little or no importance, but taken in the aggregate,
and regarded as so many bits of mosaic work forming part of a
complicated whole, they assume an aspect of far greater importance.
In any case, they put us on a trail, which may turn out to be the
right one or the wrong one, but at present certainly seems to be
worth following up. Finally, they all tend to deepen our first
suspicion that M. Platzoff was neither more nor less than a
political refugee. The next point is to ascertain whether he is
still alive.'

"Here again the clear logical intellect of Mirpah (so like my own)
came to my assistance. Before parting for the night we were agreed
as to what our mode of procedure ought to be on the morrow. This
most extraordinary case engages all my thoughts. I am afraid that I
shall not be able to sleep much to-night.

"July 10th.--I owe it to Mirpah to say that it was entirely in
consequence of a hint from her that I went at an early hour this
morning to the office of the _Eastbury Courier_, there to consult a
file of that newspaper. Six months ago the daughter of Sir John
Pennythorne was married to a rich London gentleman. Mirpah had read
the account of the festivities consequent on that event, and seemed
to remember that among other friends of the bridegroom invited down
to Finch Hall was some foreign gentleman, who was stated in the
newspaper to belong to the Russian Legation in London. Acting on