for a furious outbreak of
rage. He stood silent, staring stupidly straight before him. The shock
that had fallen on his dull brain had stunned it. For the time, he was a
big idiot--speechless, harmless, helpless.

She put back the rubbish, and replaced the plank, and picked up the
chisel. "Come, James," she said; "pull yourself together." It was
useless to speak to him. She took his arm and led him out to the cab
that was waiting at the door.

The driver, helping him to get in, noticed a piece of paper lying on
the front seat. Advertisements, seeking publicity under all possible
circumstances, are occasionally sent flying into the open windows
of vehicles. The driver was about to throw the paper away, when Mrs.
Bellbridge (seeing it on the other side) took it out of his hand. "It
isn't print," she said; "it's writing." A closer examination showed
that the writing was addressed to herself. Her correspondent must have
followed her to the church, as well as to the house in St. John's Wood.
He distinguished her by the name which she had changed that morning,
under the sanction of the clergy and the law.

This was what she read: "Don't trouble yourself, madam, about the
diamonds. You have made a mistake--you have employed the wrong man."

Those words--and no more. Enough, surely, to justify the conclusion that
he had stolen the diamonds. Was it worth while to drive to his lodgings?
They tried the experiment. The Expert had gone away on business--nobody
knew where.

The newspaper came as usual on Friday morning. To Mrs. Bellbridge's
amazement it set the question of the theft at rest, on the highest
authority. An article appeared, in a conspicuous position, thus
expressed:

"Another of the many proofs that truth is stranger than fiction has just
occurred at Liverpool. A highly respected firm of shipwreckers in that
city received a strange letter at the beginning of the present week.
Premising that he had some remarkable circumstances to communicate, the
writer of the letter entered abruptly on the narrative which follows:
A friend of his--connected with literature--had, it appeared, noticed a
lady's visiting card on his desk, and had been reminded by it (in
what way it was not necessary to explain) of a criminal case which had
excited considerable public interest at the time; viz., the trial of
Captain Westerfield for willfully casting away a ship under his command.
Never having heard of the trial, the writer, at his fr