"Have you been able to determine how the missing miniature came into Nelly's possession?" she asked. "No," he said. "It is entirely a mystery. It almost seems as if she had carried it in her hand, and it fell from her fingers when she was struck." "The papers also mentioned a brooch which was missing from Nelly's dress," she observed. "Yes," he replied. "It was no doubt stolen by the murderer." "Why are you so certain the assassin was also the thief?" she inquired. "Well, everything points to such being the case," he said. "When you first discovered the crime are you certain that the brooch was not still at her throat?" his mysterious visitor asked, eyeing him seriously. He paused, reflecting deeply for a moment. "I took no notice," he answered. "I was too much upset by the startling discovery to take heed what jewellery the victim wore." "Cannot you sufficiently recall the appearance of the unfortunate girl when first you saw her to say positively whether or not she was still wearing the ornament? Try; it is most important that this fact should be cleared up," she urged. Her gay carelessness had left her, and she was full of serious earnestness. Again he reflected. Once more before his vision rose the tragic scene just as he had witnessed it, and somehow, he felt a growing consciousness that this woman's suggestion was correct. Yes, he felt certain that Nelly, although her eyes were sightless and her heart had ceased to beat, still wore the brooch which her admirer had given her. Again and again he strove to decide, and each time he found himself convinced of the one fact alone--that at that moment the brooch was still there. "Well," she exclaimed at last, after intently watching every expression of his face, "what is your reply?" "Now that I come to reflect, I am almost positive that the brooch had not been stolen," he answered, slowly. "You are quite confident of that?" she cried, quickly. "I will not swear," he answered, "but if my memory does not deceive me it was still at her throat. I recollect noticing a strange mark beneath her chin, and wondering how it had been caused. Without doubt when her head sunk heavily upon her breast in death her chin had pressed upon the brooch." "In that case you certainly have sufficient justification to take an oath if the question were put to you in a court of justice," she observed, her brows knit reflectively. George was puzzled how this fact could affect Liane's future welfare, or rescue her from marriage with the Prince. This woman, too, was a mystery, and he found himself wondering who and what she was. "You are already aware of my name," he observed, after a brief pause. "Now that we have exchanged confidences in this manner, may I not know yours?" "It is no secret, m'sieur," she replied, looking into his face and smiling. "My name is Mariette Lepage." "Mariette Lepage!" he gasped, starting from his chair, and glaring at her in bewilderment.