This was the story which Fanny related to me, and to which I listened in wonder and amazement. As she related it I wondered at times whether it was possible that what she said could be true, but I saw no reason to question her veracity; and there certainly could be no doubt of her sincerity. I had to some extent conquered the fascination which Lemon's portrait on the wall, the stuffed bird in its glass case, and the evil-looking monster on the mantelshelf had exercised over me, but even now I could scarcely gaze upon them without a shudder. Fanny did not relate her story straight off, without a break, and I need hardly say that it was much longer than is here transcribed. But I have omitted no important point; everything pertinent to the tragedy of the murder of Mr. Melladew's daughter is faithfully set down. When she finished it was quite dark; at my request she had not lighted lamp or candle. There were breaks, as I have said. Twice she left off, and went up-stairs to see Lemon, and give him something to eat and drink. "He knows you're here, sir," she said, when she returned on the first occasion. "Is he impatient to see me?" I asked. "No, sir," she replied. "All he seems to want is to be left alone." "But he will see me?" "O, yes, sir! He'll keep his promise." Once there was an interval of more than half-an-hour, during which I ate some cold meat and bread she brought me, and drank a pint bottle of stout. There was another occasion when she suddenly paused, with her finger at her lips. "What are you stopping for, Fanny?" I asked. "Speak low, sir," she said. "Devlin!" "Where?" I said, much startled. "He has just opened the street-door, sir." "I heard nothing, Fanny." "No, sir, you wouldn't. You don't know his ways as I do. Don't speak for a minute or two, sir." I waited, and strained my ears, but no footfall reached my ears. Presently Fanny said: "He's gone up to his room. He waited outside Lemon's door, and tried it, I think. Have you any notion what you are going to do about him, sir?" "My ideas are not yet formed, but I intend to see and speak with him." "You do, sir?" "I do, Fanny, A special providence has directed my steps here to-day. I knew the poor girl who has been murdered." "Sir!" "Her family and mine have been friends for years. The interest I take in the discovery of the murderer is no common interest, and I intend to bring him to justice." "How, sir?" exclaimed Fanny, greatly excited. "Through Mr. Devlin. The way will suggest itself. You have not heard him leave the house since he entered a little while since?" "No, sir. He is in his room now." "If," I said, "when I am with your husband--and I intend to remain with him but a short time--Devlin comes down-stairs, let me know immediately. Keep watch for him." "I will, sir. O, how thankful I am that you're here--how thankful, how thankful!" "I hope we shall all have reason to be thankful. And now, Fanny, I will go up to your husband."