“I am very glad that I have been so fortunate as to find you,” he said, “for I believe you can give me the information I want. You were present at a marriage before the registrar, at an office in Folthorpe Street, Marylebone, on the 27th of February, 1849. Can you tell me where the young lady who was married went after the ceremony? I have some right to ask this question, for Susan Tre--Susan Turner is my first-cousin.” “Well, I never did!” exclaimed Miss Banks, surprised out of her stateliness. “Poor Susan was your cousin, was she? Why, she came home here a fortnight after her marriage.” “She came here?” “Yes, she was lodging here before that; and she and her husband went off to Paris after the ceremony; and there was no breakfast and no nothing; and Mr. Lesley, he was always very high and mighty-like in his ways--he flung down a twenty-pound note upon the desk before the registrar, and when the man said something about change, he threw up his head scornful-like--it was a way he had if anything vexed him,--‘There’s your money,’ he said, ‘and don’t let’s have any humbug;’ and then he dragged his poor little wife’s hand through his arm, just nodded to me and mother, and walked off to the cab without a word, leaving me and mother in the registrar’s office. The registrar was full of praises of the gentleman’s generosity, and said he’d like to tie up a half-a-dozen such couples every week; but mother was regularly cross about that twenty-pound note, and went on about it all the way home, saying that Mr. Lesley had ground her down close enough about the rent for these rooms, and needn’t go showing off his generosity to strange registers.” “And my cousin Susan went to Paris?”