ered
garret-windows opposite. As he did so, I was startled--a very slight
matter sufficed to frighten me now--by a knock at the door of the room in
which we were sitting.

My maid came in, with a letter in her hand. I took it from her. The
mourning card, which was all the envelope enclosed, dropped from my
hands.

George Forley was no more. He had departed this life three days since,
on the evening of Friday.

"Did our last chance of discovering the truth," I asked, "rest with
_him_? Has it died with _his_ death?"

"Courage, ma'am! I think not. Our chance rests on our power to make
Barsham and his mother confess; and Mr. Forley's death, by leaving them
helpless, seems to put that power into our hands. With your permission,
I will not wait till dusk to-day, as I at first intended, but will make
sure of those two people at once. With a policeman in plain clothes to
watch the house, in case they try to leave it; with this card to vouch
for the fact of Mr. Forley's death; and with a bold acknowledgment on my
part of having got possession of their secret, and of being ready to use
it against them in case of need, I think there is little doubt of
bringing Barsham and his mother to terms. In case I find it impossible
to get back here before dusk, please to sit near the window, ma'am, and
watch the house, a little before they light the street-lamps. If you see
the front-door open and close again, will you be good enough to put on
your bonnet, and come across to me immediately? Mr. Forley's death may,
or may not, prevent his messenger from coming as arranged. But, if the
person does come, it is of importance that you, as a relative of Mr.
Forley's should be present to see him, and to have that proper influence
over him which I cannot pretend to exercise."

The only words I could say to Trottle as he opened the door and left me,
were words charging him to take care that no harm happened to the poor
forlorn little boy.

Left alone, I drew my chair to the window; and looked out with a beating
heart at the guilty house. I waited and waited through what appeared to
me to be an endless time, until I heard the wheels of a cab stop at the
end of the street. I looked in that direction, and saw Trottle get out
of the cab alone, walk up to the house, and knock at the door. He was
let in by Barsham's mother. A minute or two later, a decently-dressed
man sauntered past the house, looked up at it for a moment, and saun