"Yes, I did. He became very faint, but he assured me
that it was a mere passing attack to which he was subject."

"Did you believe him?"

"I did at the time, but I don't now. He heard what I
had to say with a good deal of indifference, till I showed him
the portrait. It was then that he was seized with the attack of
which I spoke. He looked ghastly, I assure you."

"Then he must have seen the woman before. But there
might be another explanation; it might have been the name, and
not the face, which was familiar to him. What do you think?"

"I couldn't say. To the best of my belief it was after
turning the portrait in his hands that he nearly dropped from
the chair. The name, you know, was written on the back."

"Quite so. After all, it is impossible to come to any
resolution in a case like this. I hate melodrama, and nothing
strikes me as more commonplace and tedious than the ordinary
ghost story of commerce; but really, Villiers, it looks as if
there were something very queer at the bottom of all this."

The two men had, without noticing it, turned up Ashley
Street, leading northward from Piccadilly. It was a long
street, and rather a gloomy one, but here and there a brighter
taste had illuminated the dark houses with flowers, and gay
curtains, and a cheerful paint on the doors. Villiers glanced
up as Austin stopped speaking, and looked at one of these