fore them--an urchin had
passed, selling the "extra special." On the contents bill he carried in
front of him were the words, in bold type: "Norfolk Mystery--Verdict."

She had rushed out into the street, bought a paper, and hastily
concealing it, had ascended to her room, and there locked herself in.

Then she sank upon her bed and read it. Three times had she carefully
read every word, for the report was a rather full one. Afterwards she
sat, the paper still in her white hand, staring straight at the old
mahogany chest of drawers before her.

"Poor Dick!" she murmured. "Ah! Heaven! Who could have done it? Why--why
was he killed on that evening? If he had not gone to Mundesley to meet
me he would not have lost his life. And yet----"

She paused, startled at the sound of her own voice, so nervous had she
now become.

She glanced at the mirror, and started at sight of her own white, drawn
countenance.

She placed both hands upon her eyes, as though striving to recall
something, and in that position she remained, bent and pensive, for some
moments.

Her lips moved at last.

"I wonder," she exclaimed, very faintly, speaking to herself, "I wonder
whether Ralph will ever know that I met Dick? Ah! yes," she sighed; "I
was foolish--mad--to dare to go to Mundesley that afternoon. If only I
could have foreseen the consequence of our secret meeting--ah! if only I
had known what I know now!"

Again she was silent, her face pale, with a fixed, intense look, when at
last she rose, unlocked one of the small top drawers of the chest, and,
taking the drawer entirely out, extracted something that had been
concealed beneath it.

She held it in her hand. There were two halves of one of Dick Harborne's
visiting-cards--signed and torn across in a similar manner to those
pieces which had been handed for the coroner's inspection. Each half
bore a number on its back, while on the front, as she placed them
together, was Harborne's name, both printed and written.

For a long time she had her eyes fixed upon it. Her brows narrowed, and
in her eyes showed a distinct expression of terror.

"Yes," she whispered; "I was a fool--a great fool to have dared so
much--to have listened, and to have consented to go across to Bremen.
But no one knows, except Dick--and he, alas!--he's dead! Therefore who
can possibly know?--no one."

She held the halves of the torn card between her fingers for some
moments, looking at them. Then, sighing deep