The real fact was that there had been a trifling informality in the marriage, the man I was pumping being married already when he went through the ceremony with Annette. It was true that his first wife died shortly after he married his second, but Annette had only lately discovered that her own marriage was illegal, and being tired of the rascal was glad to be quit of him. She had been prudent enough to protect her savings; the business was hers, the stock was hers, and she had turned him out with never a penny in his pockets. "Not a penny, not one single penny," he whined. I sympathized with him, of course, and I left him at his lodgings--a garret in the same street as the shop--with a promise to call upon him the next night and see if anything could be done to soften Annette's heart. The information I had extracted from him was not of much present use to me, but I saw the possibility of the acquaintanceship being of service, and I was by no means dissatisfied with my day's work; but the day was not yet over. I have good reason to remember it, and so has every person associated with the mystery, so many strange things occurred--the strangest of all (which at first seemed to have not the slightest connection with the affair) leading to a most surprising and unexpected discovery. It was my intention to pay Madame Lourbet a visit, and I thought that evening would be the best time. I had business to transact at my office, for this Liverpool murder, though it occupied so much of my time, was not the only thing I had to attend to. So to my office I went and spent a useful hour in straightening my affairs and giving instructions to my clerk. Then I sat down to catch up arrears of correspondence, and by four o'clock I had everything in order. I had put away my papers and stamped the last of my letters when my clerk announced a lady--Mrs. Barlow, who was most anxious to see me. She was shown in, an elderly lady, with a careworn face and ladylike manners. She had been recommended to me, as a likely person to discover her son, whom she had not seen for five or six years. "Nor heard from him?" I asked. "Not a line," she answered in a sad voice. "Is he in England?" "I do not know." "Well, tell me all about it," I said, "and bear in mind that your time and money will be thrown away if you keep anything in the background."