he imposture so
perfectly. Her manner was flawless; her self-possession marvellous.

But the motive of it all--what could it be? The problem had been a
maddening one from first to last.

I longed to speak out my mind then and there; to tell her of what I
knew, and of what I had witnessed with my own eyes. Yet such a course
was useless. I was proceeding carefully, watching and noting
everything, determined not to blunder.

Had you been in my place, my reader, what would you have done?
Recollect, I had witnessed a scene on the river-bank that was
absolutely without explanation, and which surpassed all human
credence. I am a matter-of-fact man, not given to exaggerate or to
recount incidents that have not occurred, but I confess openly and
freely that since I had walked along that path I hourly debated within
myself whether I was actually awake and in the full possession of my
faculties, or whether I had dreamt the whole thing.

Yet it was no dream. Certain solid facts convinced me of its stern,
astounding reality. The man upon whose body I had helped to make an
autopsy was actually alive.

In reply to my questions my visitor told me that she was staying at
Martin's, in Cork Street--a small private hotel which the Mivarts had
patronised for many years--and that on the following morning she
intended returning again to Neneford.

Then, after she had again urged me to lose no time in seeing
Ethelwynn, and had imposed upon me silence as to what had passed
between us, I assisted her into a hansom, and she drove away, waving
her hand in farewell.

The interview had been a curious one, and I could not in the least
understand its import. Regarded in the light of the knowledge I had
gained when down at Neneford, it was, of course, plain that both she
and her "dead" husband were anxious to secure Ethelwynn's silence, and
believed they could effect this by inducing us to marry. The
conspiracy was deeply-laid and ingenious, as indeed was the whole of
the amazing plot. Yet, some how, when I reflected upon it on my return
from the club, I could not help sitting till far into the night trying
to solve the remarkable enigma.

A telegram from Ethelwynn had reached me at the Savage at nine
o'clock, stating that she had received my letter, and was returning to
town the day after to-morrow. She had, she said, replied to me by that
night's post.

I felt anxious to see her, to question her, and to try, if possible,
to gather from h