o
there to-night! Gad, I ought to be in Scotland Yard! There is no doubt
that the man who killed Diane was the same fellow she met the day
before. He hailed from her native village, and of course he was a
discarded lover. It is even possible that he was her husband, in the
days before she went to Paris, became a dancer, and married Jack. I must
utilize the information to the best advantage. The first thing is to run
down to Dunwold, find out all I can, and then put the police on the
track. For the present I will dispense with their services, though it
seems a bit risky to take matters into my own hands. But I rather fancy
the idea of playing detective, and I'll have a go at the business. I
won't tell the solicitor what I have discovered, but I think it will be
wise to confide in Sir Lucius Chesney. By the bye, he lives somewhere in
Sussex. He may be able to help me at the start."

Jimmie remembered the mysterious envelope in his pocket, and it occurred
to him that the contents might alter the whole situation, and make a
trip to Dunwold unnecessary. He walked faster, impatient to reach the
Albany and investigate his prize in safety.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A DISCOVERY.

Jimmie's first move, on entering his chambers, was to lock the door
behind him and turn up the gas. Then he produced the envelope, and tore
it open, wondering as he did so what penalty the law would exact for
such an offense. The enclosure consisted of a dozen closely-written
pages of note-paper, dated two days before the murder. It was in the
nature of a statement, or confession, which some whim had prompted Diane
to put down in writing. Her motive became clearer to Jimmie as he read
on. She had meant no treachery to Jack in her letter. She had come to
London, a repentant woman, to do him a real service--to open his eyes to
various things--and for that purpose she had made the appointment at
Beak street on the fatal night. In all likelihood the document hidden in
the closet was due to a premonition of impending evil--a haunting dread
of the danger that was creeping upon the unfortunate woman.

The statement was in the form of a letter, addressed to Jack Vernon on
the first page, and signed "Diane Merode" on the last. It ended quite
abruptly, and did not refer directly to the mysterious stranger or to
Diane's early life, though it hinted at certain things of importance
which she was resolved to tell. But what she disclosed was astounding
in itself