se, "my suspicion of foul play is based
upon logical conclusions. I have myself been witness of one most
astonishing fact--namely, that she was in the habit of meeting a
certain man clandestinely at night, and that their favourite walk was
along the river bank."

"What!" she cried, starting up in alarm, all the colour fading from
her face. "You have actually seen them together?"

"I have not only seen them, but I have overheard their conversation,"
I answered, surprised at the effect my words had produced upon her.

"Then you already know the truth!" she cried, in a wild voice that was
almost a shriek. "Forgive me--forgive me, Ralph!" And throwing herself
suddenly upon her knees she looked up into my face imploringly, her
white hands clasped in an attitude of supplication, crying in a voice
broken by emotion: "Forgive me, Ralph! Have compassion upon me!" and
she burst into a flood of tears which no caress or tender effort of
mine could stem.

I adored her with a passionate madness that was beyond control. She
was, as she had ever been, my ideal--my all in all. And yet the
mystery surrounding her was still impenetrable; an enigma that grew
more complicated, more impossible of solution.

CHAPTER XXV.

FORMS A BEWILDERING ENIGMA.

"Found Drowned" was the verdict of the twelve respectable villagers
who formed the Coroner's jury to inquire into the tragic death of
young Mrs. Courtenay. It was the only conclusion that could be arrived
at in the circumstances, there being no marks of violence, and no
evidence to show how the unfortunate lady got into the river.

Ambler Jevons, who had seen a brief account of the affair in the
papers, arrived hurriedly in time to attend the inquest; therefore it
was not until the inquiry was over that we were enabled to chat. His
appearance had changed during the weeks of his absence: his face
seemed thinner and wore a worried, anxious expression.

"Well, Ralph, old fellow, this turns out to be a curious business,
doesn't it?" he exclaimed, when, after leaving the public room of the
Golden Ball, wherein the inquiry had been held, we had strolled on
through the long straggling village of homely cottages with thatched
roofs, and out upon the white, level highroad.

"Yes," I admitted. "It's more than curious. Frankly, I have a distinct
suspicion that Mary was murdered."

"That's exactly my own opinion," he exclaimed quickly. "There's been
foul play somewhere. Of that I'm cert