the other man was doing, we do not know, but if we could
identify him, it might help us."

"You have not identified him?"

"We know nothing whatever about him, except that he was presumably a
Frenchman, and that he arrived on _La Touraine_, two days ago."

"That is the boat upon which I came over."

"It has occurred to me, madame, that you may have seen him--that he
may even be known to you."

"What was his name?"

"The card he sent in to Mr. Vantine bore the name of Theophile
d'Aurelle."

She shook her head.

"I have never before heard that name, Mr. Lester."

"We believe it to have been an assumed name," I said; "but perhaps
you will recognise this photograph," and I drew it from my pocket and
handed it to her.

She took it, looked at it, and again shook her head. Then she looked
at it again, turning aside and raising her veil in order to see it
better.

"There seems to be something familiar about the face," she said, at
last, "as though I might have seen the man somewhere."

"On the boat, perhaps," I suggested, but I knew very well it was not
on the boat, since the man had crossed in the steerage.

"No; it was not on the boat. I did not leave my stateroom on the
boat. But I am quite sure that I have seen him--and yet I can't say
where."

"Perhaps," I said, in a low voice, "he may have been one of the
friends of your husband."

I saw her hand tremble under the blow, but it had to be struck. And
she was brave.

"The same thought occurred to me, Mr. Lester," she answered; "but I
know very few of my husband's friends; certainly not this one. And
yet.... Perhaps my maid can help us."

Photograph in hand, she stepped through the doorway into the outer
room. The maid was sitting on the chair where we had left her; her
hands clenched tightly together in her lap, as though it was only by
some violent effort she could maintain her self-control.

"Julie," said the veiled lady, in rapid French, "I have here the
photograph of a man who was killed in this room most mysteriously a
few days ago. These gentlemen wish to identify him. The face seems to
me somehow familiar, but I cannot place it. Look at it."

Julie put forth a shaking hand, took the photograph, and glanced at
it; then, with a long sigh, slid limply to the floor, before either
Godfrey or I could catch her.

As she fell, her veil, catching on the chair-back, was torn away;
and, looking down at her, a great emotion burst within me, for I
reco