h and had released me,
what a perfect actress she was. Her confusion had only lasted for a
few seconds. Then she had welcomed me, and expressed pleasure at our
re-encounter.

I recollected the bow of ribbon-velvet which reposed in my pocket, and
the Indian bangle I had found. I remembered, too, those agonized,
terrified cries in the night--and all the mysteries of that weird and
silent house!

When she came forth I would question her; I would obtain from her the
truth anent those remarkable happenings.

Was it of that most ingenious and dastardly plot she had warned me?
Was her own conviction that she must suffer the penalty of death based
upon the knowledge of the deadly instrument, that venomous reptile
used by the assassins?

Could it be that Pennington himself--her own father--was implicated in
this shameful method of obtaining money and closing the lips of the
victims?

As I stood there amid the morning bustle of Regent Street out in the
broad sunshine, all the ghastly horrors of the previous night crowded
thickly upon me. Why had she shrieked: "Ah! not that--_not that_!" Had
she, while held prisoner in that old-fashioned drawing-room, been told
of the awful fate to which I had been consigned?

I remembered how I had called to her, but received no response. And
yet she must have been in the adjoining room.

Perhaps, like myself, she had fainted.

I recalled her voice distinctly. I certainly had made no mistake. She
had been actually present in that house of black torture. Therefore,
being my friend, there seemed no doubt that, to her, I owed my
mysterious salvation. But how? Aye, that was the question.

Suddenly, as I stood there on the crowded pavement, I became conscious
that I was attracting attention. I recollected my dusty clothes and
dirty, dishevelled face. I must have presented a strange, dissipated,
out-all-night appearance. And further, I had lost a thousand pounds.

Up and down before the long range of shop-windows I walked, patiently
awaiting her reappearance. I was anxious to know the truth concerning
the previous night's happenings--a truth which I intended she should
not conceal from me.

I glanced at my watch. It was already past eleven o'clock. Morning
shopping in Regent Street had now commenced in real earnest. The
thoroughfare was lined with carriages, for was it not the height of
the London season?

In and out of the big drapery establishment passed crowds of
well-dressed women,