rs. Vrain, who writes from Bath."

"Can she identify the dead man?"

"She thinks she can, but, of course, she cannot be certain until she
sees the body. Going by the description, however," added Link, "she is
inclined to believe that Berwin was her husband."

CHAPTER VI

MRS. VRAIN'S STORY

Denzil was much pleased with the courtesy of the detective Link in
permitting him to gain, at first hand, further details of this
mysterious case. With a natural curiosity, engendered by his short
acquaintance with the unfortunate Berwin, he was most anxious to learn
why the man had secluded himself from the world in Geneva Square; who
were the enemies he hinted at as desirous of his death; and in what
manner and for what reason he had met with so barbarous a fate at their
hands. It seemed likely that Mrs. Vrain, who asserted herself to be the
wife of the deceased, would be able to answer these questions in full;
therefore, he was punctual in keeping the appointment at the office of
Link.

He was rather astonished to find that Mrs. Vrain had arrived, and was
deep in conversation with the detective, while a third person, who had
evidently accompanied her, sat near at hand, silent, but attentive to
what was being discussed. As the dead man had been close on sixty years
of age, and Mrs. Vrain claimed to be his wife, Denzil had quite
expected to meet with an elderly woman. Instead of doing so, however,
he beheld a pretty young lady of not more than twenty-five, whose
raiment of widow's weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advantage.
She was a charming blonde, with golden hair and blue eyes, and a
complexion of rose-leaf hue. In spite of her grief her demeanour was
lively and engaging, and her smile particularly attractive, lighting up
her whole face in the most fascinating manner. Her hands and feet were
small, her stature was that of a fairy, and her figure was perfect in
every way.

Altogether, Mrs. Vrain looked like a sylph or a dainty shepherdess of
Dresden china, and should have been arrayed in gossamer robes, rather
than in the deep mourning she affected. Indeed, Lucian considered that
such weeds were rather premature, as Mrs. Vrain could not yet be certain
that the murdered man was her husband; but she looked so charming and
childlike a creature that he forgave her being too eager to consider
herself a widow. Perhaps with such an elderly husband her eagerness was
natural.

From this charming vision Lucian's