. The
fashionable world was in a great commotion at this unexpected event.
They could not understand it. To leave town at the height of the season,
and just as she had achieved so great a triumph as her last ball was
allowed to be, it was quite inexplicable. It was talked of, canvassed
over, and commented upon, at the band stand, race course,
conversaziones, and mess room, for several days, and, in fact, until the
mystery was cleared up by a startling _denouement_.

"I say, Snaffle, old fellow, who the deuce is she? You know, or I am
much mistaken. I saw you making great play, and coming it rather heavy
with her on the night of the ball. I watched you both for some time. You
two have met before under different circumstances. I wager my chestnut
mare against your bay colt that I am right. Will you say done?" and
Harry Racer, of the Fusiliers, here produced his book in hopes of
entering a bet.

"Not quite so fast Racer, my boy. There is no mystery in the matter, no
subject for a wager. We have met before, I knew it while talking to her,
but could not remember where. I recollect all now. Whether she
recognized me or not, I cannot tell. She is a very clever woman. If you
will say nothing about it, I will tell you all I know."

"Not I! not I," replied Racer, half despondingly at the prospect of
being able to enter a wager in his betting book disappearing.

"Well then," continued Snaffle, "she was a Mrs. Fraudhurst, a widow
governess and companion to a rich heiress, niece of Sir Jasper Coleman
of Vellenaux in Devonshire. How she got out here, and in what way she
managed to hook Sir Lexicon, I cannot imagine, but I will find it all
out at our next interview, depend upon it."

"Stop! By Jupiter! Did you say governess, Baronet, name Coleman, place,
Vellenaux, Devonshire? Here's a go! Not a word. Here, Ramsammy, bring
the fyle of English newspapers from the library, quick." The papers were
handed to him, and, selecting _Bell's Life_, Harry Racer commenced
reading the following paragraph:--

"Frightful railway accident. Death of Sir Ralph Coleman of Vellenaux,
Devonshire. Startling disclosures. Stolen Will. Heiress defrauded.
Flight from the country of accomplice, the family governess. Full
particulars in our next issue."

"That's her, the planter's lady. Large as life and twice as natural. The
thing is as clear as mud in a wine glass. All plain and smooth as a
three mile course. The mystery is solved. She recognized you a