Dr. Bevary paused, as if in deep thought. 'What is her Christian name?' he presently inquired. 'It is a somewhat uncommon one,' replied Austin. 'Agatha.' The doctor nodded his head, as if expecting the answer. 'A tall, spare, angular woman, of great strength,' he remarked. 'Why, what do you know of her?' exclaimed Mr. Henry Hunter to the doctor, in a surprised tone. 'Not a great deal. We medical men come across all sorts of persons occasionally,' was the physician's reply. And it was given in a concise, laconic manner, as if he did not care to be questioned further. Mr. Henry Hunter pursued the subject. 'If you know her, Bevary, perhaps you can tell whether she is mad or sane.' 'She is sane, I believe: I have no reason to think her otherwise. But she is one who can allow angry passion to master her at moments: I have seen it do so. Do you say her brother is a lawyer?' he continued, to Austin Clay. 'Yes, he is. And not one of the first water, as to reputation; a grasping, pettifogging practitioner, who will take up any dirty case that may be brought to him. And in that, I fancy, he is a contrast to his sister; for, with all her strange ways, I should not judge her to be dishonourable. It is said he speculates, and that he is not over particular whose money he gets to do it with.' 'I wonder that she never told me about this brother,' dreamily exclaimed the doctor, in an inward tone, as if forgetting that he spoke aloud. 'Where did you meet with her? When did you know her?' interposed Mr. Henry Hunter. 'Are you sure that _you_ know nothing about her?' was the doctor's rejoinder, turning a searching glance upon Mr. Henry Hunter. 'Come, Bevary, what have you got in your head? I do _not_ know her. I never met with her until she saw and accosted me. Are you acquainted with her history?' 'With a dark page in it.' 'What is the page?' Dr. Bevary shook his head. 'In the course of a physician's practice he becomes cognisant of many odds and ends of romance, dark or fair; things that he must hold sacred, and may not give utterance to.' Mr. Henry Hunter looked vexed. 'Perhaps you can understand the reason of her attacking me?' 'I could understand it, but for your assertion of being a stranger to her. If it is so, I can only believe that she mistook you for another.' '_If_ it is so,' repeated Mr. Henry Hunter. 'I am not in the habit of asserting an untruth, Bevary.' 'Nor, on the other hand, is Miss Gwinn one to be deceived. She is keen as a razor.' 'Bevary, what are you driving at?' 'At nothing. Don't be alarmed, Henry. I have no cause to suppose you know the woman, or she you. I only thought--and think--she is one whom it is almost impossible to deceive. It must, however, have been a mistake.' 'It was a mistake--so far as her suspicion that she knew me went,' decisively returned Mr. Henry Hunter.