"well, and what is it now?" ravenspur asked. "you look as if you had seen a ghost. is there anything new in this ghastly business? have the police solved the problem?"

"on the contrary, the problem gets more bewildering every hour," walter said. "as you know, i was going to talk over our side of the puzzle with inspector dallas, and he gave me some startling information. as soon as ever i mentioned the flavio business he told me that he had made a discovery which connected it closely with the death of poor louis delahay. it appears that there is in england at the present moment an italian detective, called berti, who had the flavio affair in hand."

"i recollect the name perfectly well," ravenspur murmured.

"it appears that berti has seen mrs. delahay since the inquest. he was rather interested in the affair, and he contrived to get a sight of mrs. delahay. and now comes the most extraordinary feature of the story. berti is absolutely certain that mrs. delahay is no other than carlotta, countess flavio."

"impossible," ravenspur cried. "the man is mistaken."

"he is prepared to swear to his statement, any way," walter said. "and, after all, i don't see why it should be impossible. in fact it is not in the least impossible, and i'll tell you why. after this amazing thing came out i thought it my duty to go back to the hotel and see mrs. delahay. i told her what berti said, and taxed her with being a principal in the flavio tragedy."

"and she denied it promptly, of course?"

"she did. she told me quite calmly that she had never heard of the flavio affair. i confess her words staggered me, because they were so calm and self-possessed. i watched her narrowly when i was speaking, and she never so much as changed colour. even when i told her the story she appeared to be as mystified and puzzled as ever. she said, as she has always said, that for the best part of her life she has been more or less a recluse, and altogether out of touch with the world's happenings. you see, berti was so confident, and mrs. delahay so self-possessed, that i was utterly puzzled."

"there is nothing to be puzzled about," ravenspur said. "the italian detective has made a mistake. his recollections of carlotta flavio's features after eighteen years have become blurred. for goodness sake, don't let us harp upon this absurdity. surely, there are enough complications without this!"

"so i thought at first," walter said. "but you will recollect telling me the story of your friend count flavio and his unhappy marriage. there were two descartis--carlotta, who married your friend, and maria, who disappeared and was not heard of for years. now isn't it rather significant, bearing in mind what berti says, that mrs. delahay's name should be maria?"

ravenspur looked up with a startled expression.

"well, yes," he exclaimed. "but i see you have more to tell me. will you please go on?"

"i am coming to the interesting part now," walter said. "though i was prepared to believe that mrs. delahay knew nothing of the flavio affair, i was by no means satisfied. i felt that there must be something in the italian's story. i was certain of it when mrs. delahay admitted that her maiden name was descarti. oh, please let me finish. it was mrs. delahay's sister carlotta who was the wife of your friend the count. hence the very natural mistake made by berti. he had not seen the countess, but her sister. the strong likeness between them would account for the misunderstanding."

"and this is really a fact?" ravenspur cried. "strange that it should not have come out before."

"but why should it, my dear uncle? you say that you never saw count flavio's wife. you have not the slightest idea what she was like. all you know is that she was an exceedingly bad woman, and that you rescued her child from a questionable future. on the other hand, maria delahay is secluded from the world for eighteen years. she is told by her parents that her sister is dead. she knows nothing of the terrible flavio scandal. this is a fact, because she told me so herself. indeed, we had it all out. she has to come back to the world again when her parents die. she is compelled to get her own living. it is only natural that she should change her name, and there you are."

lord ravenspur pondered over the matter for some time in silence.

"you saw a great deal more of the delahays than i did," he said. "practically i have not seen them together at all. now how do they strike you? i mean, before their marriage, did you think that the woman really cared anything for our poor friend?"

"i am sure she did," walter said emphatically. "of course, there was no passionate attachment between them; they were too old for that. but i am quite certain that maria delahay's affection was sincere enough. after what i have seen the last day or two, i decline to believe that she had anything to do with her husband's death. i believed her when she said she never saw him from the time she left the hotel till she found him dead in the studio."

"and that opens up another theory," ravenspur exclaimed. "if it wasn't maria delahay the witness stevens saw that night in fitzjohn square, then it must have been her sister carlotta."

"my word, that never occurred to me!" walter cried. "and yet the solution is as simple as it is probable. i wonder if it is possible to obtain a photograph of the countess?"

"there were plenty of them published at the time of the trial," ravenspur said. "of course, i mean in the illustrated papers. i have got the whole of them somewhere upstairs. not that i pay much attention to newspaper photographs, as they are rarely any use. i'll go and see if i can find one."

ravenspur turned hurriedly and left the room. he was gone some considerable time, leaving walter to stand there and ponder over the result of his night's adventure. the more he thought the matter over, the more complicated it became. he put the thing away from him almost petulantly. he was suddenly conscious of the fact that the music in the drawing-room was very soft and soothing. then it flashed across him that vera had something to say. ravenspur might be a little time longer, and there was no opportunity like the present.

only a portion of the drawing-room lights were on, together with the piano candles, and vera sat there half in the shadow, a pathetic looking figure enough, in her white dress. as walter approached he could see that her face was very pale, and that her eyes showed signs of recent tears.

"what is the matter?" he asked. "what fresh trouble is this?"

vera's hands fell away from the keys. she rose from her seat.

"it is not altogether a fresh trouble," she murmured; "it is only the old one become more acute. do you remember my telling you the other day that i felt how impossible it is for me to remain here any longer? but i must go away."

"my dearest girl, why?" walter asked. "you know perfectly well how much i care for you. you know perfectly well that you could not look me in the face and declare that you do not love me as well as i love you. now, could you?"

"that is what makes it all the harder," vera whispered. "oh, i am not going to prevaricate about it. we have always been good friends, walter, and in the last few months i have realised that friendship has given way to a more tender attachment. perhaps it was that which opened my eyes. perhaps it was that that made me ask myself some questions. i felt quite sure that lord ravenspur had guessed nothing of our secret. in fact, it was a secret to me till one afternoon in this very room. . . ."

"i am not likely to forget," walter said tenderly.

"well, then, you see i began to think. no father could have been kinder to me than lord ravenspur. i owe him a debt that i can never repay. but, though he has taken me into his house, and brought me up as if i belonged to his own flesh and blood, it does not follow that he considers me good enough for his nephew, the future holder of the title. and when he did find out not long ago, i saw at once what a dreadful disappointment it was to him."

"i am afraid it was," walter said grudgingly. "but he did not set his face against it when i placed the thing before him in a proper light. he merely stipulated that our engagement must be a secret between us for the present. i am sure he is much too just a man, much too kind-hearted to spoil our happiness. you are too sensitive, vera; your sense of honour is too high."

the girl's lips quivered piteously.

"perhaps i am," she whispered. "but there is another thing which i have learned tonight, a thing which prevents me from remaining here an hour longer than is necessary. it is the question of my birth. i learned that tonight for the first time. oh, do not humiliate me any further. do not force me to speak any more plainly. if you knew the shameful story of my parents you would realise at once how unfitted i am to become----"

the girl said no more. she covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. as to walter, he was too astonished to speak. in the tense silence that followed the hall bell rang violently again and again. vera looked up swiftly.

"you had better go yourself," she said. "it may be important." (she was deeply grateful for the interruption.) "go yourself; everybody else is in bed."