h my humble effort at composition produced on
them.

For there they sat--Marion erect and rigid, with her eyes fixed on her
sister, and her hand raised in attitude of warning; and Miss
O'Halloran, in the same fixed attitude, looked eagerly at Marion, her
eyes wide open, her lips parted, and one of her hands also half raised
in the involuntary expression of amazement, or the mechanical
suggestion of secrecy, Miss O'Halloran's emotion was not so strong as
that of Marion, but then her nature was more placid, and the attitude
of each was in full accordance with their respective characters. They
sat there in that attitude, altogether unconscious of me and of my
gaze, with deep emotion visible on their faces, and unmistakable, yet
why that emotion should be caused by that advertisement I could not for
the life of me imagine.

"Well," said O'Halloran, "what do ye think of that now? Isn't that a
spicimin of thrue Canajin grade? The man threw his loife away for a
few pince."

As O'Halloran spoke, the ladies recovered their presence of mind. They
started. Hiss O'Halloran saw my eyes fixed on her, flushed up a little,
and looked away. As for Marion, she too saw my look, but, instead of
turning her eyes away, she fixed them on me for an instant with a
strange and most intense gaze, which seemed to spring from her dark,
solemn, lustrous eyes, and pierce me through and through. But it was
only for an instant. Then her eyes fell, and there remained not a trace
of their past excitement in either of them.

I confess I was utterly confounded at this. These two ladies perceived
in that advertisement of mine a certain meaning which showed that they
must have some idea of the cause of the fate of the imaginary Verrier.
And what was this that they knew; and how much did they know? Was it
possible that they could know the lady herself? It seemed probable.

The idea filled me with intense excitement, and made me determine here
on the spot, and at once, to pursue my search after the unknown lady.
But how? One way alone seemed possible, and that was by telling a
simple, unvarnished tale of my own actual adventure.

This decision I reached in little more than a minute, and, before
either of the ladies had made a reply to O'Halloran's last remark, I
answered him in as easy a tone as I could assume.

"Oh," I said, "I can tell you all about that."

"You!" cried O'Halloran.

"You!" cried Miss O'Halloran.

"You!" cried Marion, and she and