"That is so. Here is her photograph," and he handed me a faded carte-de-visite, which he took from his pocket. It was similar to that which had been given me by the man who had died in the garret. "Jane Maygrove," he continued, "is none other than the wife of your club-friend, Rivers." "Ted Rivers's wife?" I repeated, incredulously. He replied in the affirmative, adding, "Does not that account for his consternation when you produced a photograph of her twin sister? He believed it to be that of his own wife." "How do you know all this?" I asked, my interest in the solution of this extraordinary problem increasing more than ever. "On the day you left Elveham, after discovering Vera and myself in the Dene, you came to London, and outside the Junior Garrick you were met by an old man named Grey, the husband of Nell Maygrove, were you not?" "That's true," I admitted. "But how came you aware of this?" "Simply because I followed you," he replied, laughing. "I had an object in doing so; it was in your own interest, as you will know later." "How could your espionage affect me?" I asked, with a sudden feeling of resentment at having been "shadowed." "You shall know very soon. On the day to which I refer, you went to Grey's room. He told you, before he died, how he discovered his murdered wife, and how he had taken the seal from her breast. Do you remember?" "Yes." "Your conversation was overheard by the sister of the dead woman, who, until then, was unaware that the significant sign had been found upon her, she being abroad at the time the accounts were published in the newspapers. When she heard Grey's declaration she at once knew that the man who had killed her sister was the murderer of my wife. Prompted by revenge, she determined to track the villain, and bring him to justice, even at the risk of being prosecuted for theft herself. It was in consequence of this that she materially assisted us by giving evidence in your favour to-day." "To her, to Vera, and to yourself, I owe my present liberty," I exclaimed deeply moved. "I am indeed grateful to you all for your efforts." "You have little to thank me for, dear," said Vera tenderly. "Fate seemed against me in everything I did." "I understand how you must have suffered, dearest, and how circumstances precluded you from telling me the truth. You did your best, and in future I shall trust you implicitly," I said, while her arm stole gently around my neck, and she looked lovingly into my eyes. Wringing Boris's hand heartily, I expressed my gratitude to him, adding, "There is one thing needful to completely solve the enigma--the name of the man who committed the crimes." "When I gave the police the information I promised I would not divulge until they made the arrest; otherwise I would tell you," he replied, with a tantalising smile. "Do tell us! We must know the whole truth now," urged Vera earnestly.