"Pardon me for my rudeness," he said, with a pitiful, deprecatory movement of his shoulders. "In what you have undertaken for Mr. Portland, will you accept my assistance?" "If I see that it is likely to be of any service, yes, most certainly." "Give me something to do," he said in a husky tone, "give me some clue to follow. This suspense is maddening." "I will do what I can. And now I must leave you. My friend will wonder what is detaining me." "But one word more, sir. Have you heard any news of Mary?" "None. So far as I know, she is still missing. If we could find her we should, perhaps, learn the truth." "Should you need me," said Carton, "you know my address. I gave you my card yesterday, but you may have mislaid it. Here is another. I live with my guardian. It is a good thing for me that I am not left alone. But, good God! what am I saying? I _am_ alone--alone! My Lizzie, my poor Lizzie, is dead!" As I turned into the house I caught a last sight of him standing irresolutely on the pavement, his guardian in the kindest and tenderest manner striving to draw him away. Fanny was waiting for me at the door of her little parlour. There was a wild apprehensive look in her eyes as they rested on my face. "What has kep you so long, sir?" she asked in a low tone of fear. "I came across an acquaintance accidentally," I replied. "A policeman, sir, or a detective?" "Good heavens, neither!" I exclaimed. A sigh of relief escaped her, but immediately afterwards she became anxious again. "You was talking a long time, sir." "It was not my fault, Fanny." "Was--was Lemon's name mentioned, sir?" "No." "Was there nothing said about him?" "Not a word." This assurance plainly took a weight from her mind. She glanced at the paper I held in my hand, and said: "Is there anything new in it, sir? Is the murderer caught?" "No," I replied; "the paper contains nothing that has not appeared in a hundred other newspapers yesterday and to-day. Fanny, I am about to speak to you now very seriously." "I'm listening, sir." "Has Mr. Lemon, your husband, anything to do with this dreadful deed?" "He had no hand in it, sir, as I hope for mercy! I'll tell you everything I know, as I said I would; but it must be in my own way, and you mustn't interrupt me." I decided that it would be useless to put any further questions to her, and that I had best listen patiently to what she was about to impart. I told her that I would give her my best attention, and I solemnly impressed upon her the necessity of concealing nothing from me. She nodded, and pouring out a glass of water, drank it off. A silence of two or three minutes intervened before she had sufficiently composed herself to commence, and during that silence the feeling grew strong within me that Providence had directed my steps to her house.