hrubbery about
a couple of months after her marriage with the Duke. There were folks
who saw the meeting and heard some words of their talk. They arranged to
go, and she sailed from Plymouth with him a day or two afterward.'

'That's not true.'

'Then 'tis the queerest lie ever told by man. Her father believed and
knew to his dying day that she went with him; and so did the Duke, and
everybody about here. Ay, there was a fine upset about it at the time.
The Duke traced her to Plymouth.'

'Traced her to Plymouth?'

'He traced her to Plymouth, and set on his spies; and they found that she
went to the shipping-office, and inquired if Mr. Alwyn Hill had entered
his name as passenger by the _Western Glory_; and when she found that he
had, she booked herself for the same ship, but not in her real name. When
the vessel had sailed a letter reached the Duke from her, telling him
what she had done. She never came back here again. His Grace lived by
himself a number of years, and married this lady only twelve months
before he died.'

Alwyn was in a state of indescribable bewilderment. But, unmanned as he
was, he called the next day on the, to him, spurious Duchess of
Hamptonshire. At first she was alarmed at his statement, then cold, then
she was won over by his condition to give confidence for confidence. She
showed him a letter which had been found among the papers of the late
Duke, corroborating what Alwyn's informant had detailed. It was from
Emmeline, bearing the postmarked date at which the _Western Glory_
sailed, and briefly stated that she had emigrated by that ship to
America.

Alwyn applied himself body and mind to unravel the remainder of the
mystery. The story repeated to him was always the same: 'She ran away
with the curate.' A strangely circumstantial piece of intelligence was
added to this when he had pushed his inquiries a little further. There
was given him the name of a waterman at Plymouth, who had come forward at
the time that she was missed and sought for by her husband, and had
stated that he put her on board the _Western Glory_ at dusk one evening
before that vessel sailed.

After several days of search about the alleys and quays of Plymouth
Barbican, during which these impossible words, 'She ran off with the
curate,' became branded on his brain, Alwyn found this important
waterman. He was positive as to the truth of his story, still
remembering the incident well, and he described in