"Of that I am not quite sure. All I know is that she was there on the afternoon previous to the tragedy. Sir Henry's wife is Mrs Chetwode's bosom friend." The old fellow grunted, closed his eyes, and puffed contentedly at his pipe. "In that case," he observed at last, "her ladyship may know something about that affair. Is that your suspicion?" "Well, yes; to tell the truth, that is my opinion." "And also mine," he exclaimed. "I am glad you have told me this, for it throws considerable light upon my discovery." "Discovery?" I echoed. "What have you discovered?" "The identity of the woman in black who visited Miss Wynd last night." "You've discovered her--already?" I cried. "Who was she?" "A woman known as La Gioia," responded the queer old fellow, puffing a cloud of rank smoke from his heavy lips. "La Gioia?" I gasped, open-mouthed and rigid. "La Gioia! And you have found her?" "Yes; I have found her." CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. A COUNTER-PLOT. "I have no knowledge yet of who the woman is," responded Hoefer, in answer to my question. "I only know that her name is La Gioia. But you are aware of her identity, it seems." "No; like yourself, I only know her name." He glanced at me rather curiously through his big spectacles, and I knew that he doubted my words. I pressed him to explain by what means he had made the discovery, but his answers were ambiguous. In brief, he believed that I knew more than I really did, and therefore declined to tell me anything. He was extremely eccentric, this queer old dabbler in the occult, and I well knew that, having once adopted a plan in the pursuit of an inquiry, no power on earth would induce him to deviate from it. Fully an hour I remained in that atmosphere full of poisonous fumes, watching a further but futile analysis that he made, and afterwards took my leave of him. I went back to Bayswater, wrote a letter of resignation to the doctor who had employed me, and then went forth again upon my round of visits. The practice was large and scattered, and several cases were critical ones, therefore it was not until nearly eight o'clock that I returned again, fagged and hungry, only to find the waiting-room filled with club patients and others. The irregularity of meals is one of the chief discomforts of a busy doctor's life. I snatched a few moments to swallow my soup, and then entered the surgery and sat there until past nine ere I could commence dinner. Then, over my coffee and a pipe, I sat at ease, thinking over the many occurrences of the day. Truly it had been an eventful one--the turning-point of my life. I had telegraphed to my mother, telling her of my good fortune, and, in response, received her hearty congratulations. One of the chief gratifications which the thousand pounds had brought to me was the fact that, for a year or so, she would not feel the absolute pinch of poverty as she had done through so long past.