"She could have had no hope of entangling our Phoebe by so doing. She knew that Phoebe was living here, and the sudden visit our poor girl paid to her father could not by any possibility have become known to her beforehand. If the woman Tom Barley saw was neither Phoebe nor Mrs. Pamflett, who is she? There are now two mysterious persons in this horrible affair--the man who was in the habit of visiting Miser Farebrother late at night and this woman whom Tom Barley saw, and who was conspicuously anxious that he should not see her face. These matters must be followed up; we can agitate, we can get time. I hear on all sides nothing but sympathy expressed for our dear Phoebe, and the case against her is so entirely circumstantial that I will not, I cannot, give up hope. A friend of mine who has chambers next to mine is so much interested in the case that he has offered to help me all he can. He is clearer-headed than I am just now, and cleverer, and higher up the ladder. He is convinced that Phoebe is innocent, and that there is a mystery in the affair which, unravelled, would set her free." "God bless him!" sobbed Fanny. "What is the name of this good friend, that I may remember it in my prayers." "Dick Garden. We are going to work together. He is waiting for me now in my rooms. He is a good fellow--the best of friends; I rely greatly upon him. Calm as I appear, I am burning with wrath and indignation, and I am scarcely to be depended upon for a clear judicial reasoning upon anything we may happily discover. I must go at once. Then you cannot tell me where I can find Tom Barley?" "I will find him for you," said Robert, starting up. "Do; and send him on to my place immediately. Good-by--good-by. If you hear anything, don't fail to let me know." He drove rapidly to his rooms, where he found his friend Richard Garden awaiting him. This friend was of about the same age as himself; an ambitious, astute young fellow, determined to get along in the world, and almost certain to succeed, for the reason that he had brains and indomitable courage and industry. He looked up from the paper upon which he was writing when Fred entered. Upon a smaller table in the room some food was spread: a plate of ham and beef, a cold pie, and bread; also a jug of ale. "You have had nothing to eat?" said Garden. Fred shook his head impatiently. "Of course you haven't; and you think that we can go into an affair like this with empty stomachs. No, old fellow; we must assist ourselves like sensible men. A craving stomach is a bad mental foundation. Come, tuck away; force something down. That's right. Just taste this cold pie--good, isn't it? A pint of ale between us--here's your half, no more and no less. You feel better, don't you? Now we are fit to set to work. You saw her?" "Yes." "Did you get her to talk calmly?" "She was calmer than you are, Dick. She has made up her mind to die."