"Go on; tell me all you can," I demanded, when, after considerable persuasion, he had consented to have his head bound up as well as my slight knowledge of surgery permitted. "Presently. When we get home--or what was once my home," he rejoined. He was paler than before, and leaned back in a state apparently of the utmost exhaustion. His necktie had been loosened, and I had placed my travelling rug around the thinly-covered chest, yet in spite of this the severe reaction affected him severely. Sometimes he closed his eyes, and every now and then, when we passed along streets where the lights were more brilliant than in others, he stared vacantly at the roof of the cab. Once, when I was leaning over him, making him a little more comfortable, a tear rolled down the thin, haggard cheek. The journey seemed interminable. Street after street we traversed, and yet our journey's end appeared as far off as ever. We had evidently wandered a long way before our driver received a definite address, or possibly he was lengthening the course for his own benefit. The fact was that, in my impatience, it appeared longer than it really would have done. Eventually we regained the Strand, and shortly afterwards our conveyance came to a standstill in what appeared to be anything but an inviting neighbourhood. Not a soul was about, and the empty street rattled loudly as we clattered along it. We were in Drury Lane, before the entrance to a narrow squalid court. As we stopped I turned with a sigh of relief to my companion, who, however, stirred not. A fearful misgiving entered my heart. Was it possible he was dead? Profoundly thankful I felt when, after shaking him, he turned and opened his eyes. "Come; is this the place?" I asked, assisting him to his feet. He followed me mechanically, but leaned very heavily on my arm as we stood for a moment while I paid the cabman. "Where is it?" was my next question. With an effort he composed himself, passing his hand wearily over his eyes. He appeared much changed. Inwardly deploring my forgetfulness, I drew my flask from my pocket and tendered him a pull, which he accepted with feverish energy. "Ah! that puts new life into one!" he exclaimed, with a gasp. His tone struck me as peculiar, and, regarding him attentively, it was plainly to be seen that he was in a very faint condition. "This way," he continued, as, bracing himself up, he led the way up the court. "Here--here was where I found her, murdered!" "Who?" I asked, instantly. "My wife." The words were simple ones, and might have been spoken and heard a thousand times on any day; but at that time, and in those circumstances, they thrilled me indescribably. If those two words had been uttered by an enthusiastic lover to his bride for the first time, they could not have been more tenderly breathed. Brushing aside all sentiment, however, I inquired, coldly, "When was this?" "On the night of the fourth of March."