roke down altogether--my poor child!

"I ought to have written to Mrs. Cayley, I know; but I never gave a
thought to it till Anne began to recover--"

"That's all right; Mary understood, and she's forgiven the omission long
ago," Jim interposed. "But, I say, Pendennis, I was right, after all! I
always stuck out that it was a case of mistaken identity, though you
wouldn't believe me!"

Pendennis nodded.

"The woman from Siberia--what was she like?" he demanded, turning again
to me.

"I can't say. I only saw her from a distance, and for a minute or so," I
answered evasively. "She was tall and white-haired."

I was certain in my own mind that she was his wife, for I'd heard the
words she called out,--his name, "An-thony," not the French "Antoine,"
but as a foreigner would pronounce the English word,--but I should only
add to his distress if I told him that.

"Well, it remains a mystery; and one that I suppose we shall never
unravel," he said heavily, at last.

But it was unravelled for us, and that before many weeks had passed.

One dark afternoon just before Christmas I dropped in for a few minutes,
as I generally contrived to do before going down to the office; for I
was on the _Courier_ again temporarily.

Anne and her father were still the Cayleys' guests; for Mary wouldn't
hear of their going to an hotel, and they had only just found a flat
near at hand to suit them. Having at last returned to England, Anthony
Pendennis had decided to remain. He'd had enough, at last, of wandering
around the Continent!

Mary had other callers in the drawing-room, so I turned into Jim's
study, where Anne joined me in a minute or so,--Anne, who, in a few
short months, would be my wife.

The front-door bell rang, and voices sounded in the lobby; but though I
heard, I didn't heed them, until Anne held up her hand.

"Hush! Who is Marshall talking to?"

The prim maid was speaking in an unusually loud voice; shouting, in
fact, as English folk always do when they're addressing a foreigner,--as
if that would make them more intelligible.

A moment later she came in, looking flustered, and closed the door.

"There's a foreign man outside, sir, and I think he's asking for you;
but I can't make out half he says,--not even his name, though it sounds
like Miskyploff!"

"Mishka!" I shouted, making for the door.

Mishka it was, grim, gaunt, and travel-stained; and as he gripped my
hands I knew, without a word spoken, that Loris