"Wait! By mere accident she knew his secret. One night, a long time ago, she told me that a gold mine had been opened to her. In the City, at a public-house where she had called, she met her sister Jane, who gave her a five-pound note. A few days afterwards Nell went to see some gentleman, and came home with a lot of money. She said she knew a secret out of which we both might make our fortunes. In the meantime Jane had disappeared. They were sisters, and so much alike that one could scarcely tell the difference. Open the box with this key, and give me the portrait you'll find there." Chafing with impatience I did as he required and quickly found the picture. The little photograph was of the ordinary cheap pattern, and presented the features of a rather attractive young woman. "This," said my strange narrator, taking it in his trembling hand, "is my wife's picture, and it will do very well for Jane's. We saw little of her, as she moved about so much, sometimes in England and sometimes abroad." "Really this does not throw much light on the occurrence," I remarked. "What connects me with all this?" "The fact that you witnessed the murder at Bedford Place," he replied. "You have seen the man who killed Mrs Inglewood, and he also, I am certain, murdered my wife! You may well stare; but consider well, as I have done, and you will come to the same conclusion. When Nell left me she said, `Good-bye Ned; I know it's a dangerous errand I'm on, but don't fret.' It was dangerous--fatal. When I found she did not return I went out. It was dark, and a very few steps from my door I stumble on a drunken woman lying in a corner. When I looked closer my head reeled, and I nearly fainted--it was Nell! On her breast was the--the--" "The seal!" I exclaimed. He did not answer. Gradually his voice had become fainter, till it was only by placing my ear almost to his mouth that I caught the feebly-uttered syllables. Putting the candle to his face I saw that his eyes were fixed on vacancy, while huge drops of dank perspiration stood upon the tightly-drawn skin of the forehead. Evidently my mysterious acquaintance was dying rapidly. What was to be done? The fatal secret was yet locked in his bosom. Maddened with a feverish anxiety I emptied the brandy remaining in the flask down his throat, afterwards wiping his pallid face with my handkerchief. My efforts for a time seemed in vain, but by degrees the breathing became more perceptible. Presently he opened his eyes. "Thanks, thanks," he murmured, his hands clutching convulsively over mine with each respiration. "Are you better now?" I asked. He disregarded my question, and appeared to be endeavouring to recall his thoughts. "Ah, yes, it was the seal that was on Nell,--yes, the seal, and I took it off. It's in the box, along with the portrait." "And you wanted me--for what?" I said, inquiringly, for he seemed to be losing himself again. "You? Who are you?"