the nearer date, and found Villiers sitting as usual by the
window, apparently lost in meditation on the drowsy traffic of
the street. There was a bamboo table by his side, a fantastic
thing, enriched with gilding and queer painted scenes, and on it
lay a little pile of papers arranged and docketed as neatly as
anything in Mr. Clarke's office.

"Well, Villiers, have you made any discoveries in the
last three weeks?"

"I think so; I have here one or two memoranda which
struck me as singular, and there is a statement to which I
shall call your attention."

"And these documents relate to Mrs. Beaumont? It was
really Crashaw whom you saw that night standing on the doorstep
of the house in Ashley Street?"

"As to that matter my belief remains unchanged, but
neither my inquiries nor their results have any special relation
to Crashaw. But my investigations have had a strange issue. I
have found out who Mrs. Beaumont is!"

"Who is she? In what way do you mean?"

"I mean that you and I know her better under another
name."

"What name is that?"