he earlier editions were able to supply the man's name,
and I am afraid that there is no doubt about his identity. The captain
of the Lusitania confirmed it, and many of the passengers who saw him
leave the ship last night have been interviewed."

"Murdered!" she repeated to herself with trembling lips. "It seems such
a horrible death! Have they any idea who did it?" she asked. "Has any
one been arrested?"

"At present, no, madam," the clerk answered. "The affair, as you will
see if you read further, is an exceedingly mysterious one."

She rocked a little in her chair, but she showed no signs of fainting.
She picked up the paper and found the place once more. There were two
columns filled with particulars of the tragedy.

"Where can I be alone and read this?" she asked.

"Here, if you please, madam," the clerk answered. "I must go back to my
desk. There are many arrivals just now. Will you allow me to send you
something--a little brandy, perhaps?"

"Nothing, thank you," she answered. "I wish only to be alone while I
read this."

He left her with a little sympathetic murmur, and closed the door behind
him. The girl raised her veil now and spread the newspaper out on
the table before her. There was an account of the tragedy; there were
interviews with some of the passengers, a message from the captain. In
all, it seemed that wonderfully little was known of Mr. Hamilton Fynes.
He had spoken to scarcely a soul on board, and had remained for the
greater part of the time in his stateroom. The captain had not even
been aware of his existence till the moment when Mr. Hamilton Fynes
had sought him out and handed him an order, signed by the head of his
company, instructing him to obey in any respect the wishes of this
hitherto unknown passenger. The tug which had been hired to meet him had
gone down the river, so it was not possible, for the moment, to say by
whom it had been chartered. The station-master at Liverpool knew nothing
except that the letter presented to him by the dead man was a personal
one from a great railway magnate, whose wishes it was impossible to
disregard. There had not been a soul, apparently, upon the steamer
who had known anything worth mentioning of Mr. Hamilton Fynes or his
business. No one in London had made inquiries for him or claimed his few
effects. Half a dozen cables to America remained unanswered.

That papers had been stolen from him--papers or money--was evident from
the place of conc