"Strange that this, of all things, should be in the dead woman's possession, when we have it in evidence that she was introduced to him only half an hour before her death," observed the Coroner. "Very strange indeed. Every moment the mystery surrounding this unknown woman seems to grow more impenetrable." CHAPTER FIVE. TRISTRAM AT HOME. The jury, after a long deliberation, returned an open verdict of "Found dead." In the opinion of the twelve Strand tradesmen, there was insufficient evidence to justify a verdict of murder, therefore they had contented themselves in leaving the matter in the hands of the police. They had, in reality, accepted the evidence of the analyst in preference to the theory of the doctor, and had publicly expressed a hope that the authorities at Scotland Yard would spare no pains in their endeavours to discover the deceased's fellow traveller, if he did not come forward voluntarily and establish her identity. This verdict practically put an end to the mystery created by the sensational section of the evening Press, for although it was not one of natural causes, actual murder was not alleged. Therefore, amid the diversity of the next day's news, the whirling world of London forgot, as it ever forgets, the sensation of the previous day. All interest had been lost in the curious circumstances surrounding the death of the unknown Italian girl in the most crowded of London thoroughfares by reason of this verdict of the jury. The police had taken up the matter actively, but all that had been discovered regarding the identity of the dead woman was that her name was probably Vittorina--beyond that, absolutely nothing. Among the millions who had followed the mystery with avidity in the papers, one man alone recognised the woman by her description, and with satisfaction learnt how ingeniously her death had been encompassed. That man was the eminently respectable doctor in the remote rural village of Lyddington. With his breakfast untouched before him, he sat in his cosy room eagerly devouring the account of the inquest; then, when he had finished, he cast the paper aside, exclaiming aloud in Italian-- "Dio! What good fortune! I wonder how it was accomplished? Somebody else, besides ourselves, apparently, feared her presence in England. Arnold is in Livorno by this time, and has had his journey for nothing." Then, with his head thrown back in his chair, he gazed up at the panelled ceiling deep in thought.