"Which concerns my brother?" "Yes. Believe me, I do not ask out of idle curiosity, but will you answer my questions?" Mrs. Taunton thought a moment. "It's all so curious," she said, nervously, "but Mr. Foster, who introduced you, is an old friend of mine,"--after a pause, "yes, I will answer your questions." He led her to a seat and took one beside her, then began to talk. "Your brother's name is Leopold Verschoyle?" "Yes." "He was married in Malta seven years ago?" "He was." "And a year afterwards separated from his wife?" "He did." "And then?" hesitatingly. "Oh, do not be afraid," she said, coldly; "he fell in love with another woman, and there was a divorce case." "Verschoyle v. Verschoyle and Macgregor." "You seem to know all about it," replied the lady, a little astonished. "He went to Australia with Miss Macgregor, and since then I have heard nothing about him. What became of them?" "He married her." "Oh!" drawing down the corners of her mouth, "then she is his wife now I presume?" "No; she is dead!" "Dead! Then my brother is coming back to England?" "That I cannot tell you till I call on you, to-morrow." "What do you want me to do?" "To show me your brother's portrait--have you one?" "Yes; only one. Taken just before he left for Malta." "Good. Then I will call to-morrow at four o'clock." "And then?" rising and taking Monteith's arm. "I will tell you everything," he replied. "About what?" "That depends on--to-morrow." "You are a most mysterious man," said Mrs. Taunton, in a vexed tone, as he took her back to her husband; "you arouse my curiosity, and then refuse to gratify it--but tell me at least one thing--is my brother well?" Ronald hesitated. He dare not tell her that her brother--if Ventin indeed, were her brother--was dead so he equivocated. "I think so," he replied, hurriedly. "Then I will wait for your promised revelation to-morrow;" and, with a smile, she left him, and went back to her husband, who was still talking to Foster. "Take me home, George," said Mrs. Taunton, touching her husband's arm; "I am tired." "Yes, you look pale, my dear," he answered, giving her his arm; "we'd better go at once." Foster glanced keenly at her and then at Ronald, who, however, shook his head. "Good night, Mr. Foster," said Mrs. Taunton, giving him her hand; "you are to call on me to-morrow at four, with Mr. Monteith?" "I will not fail," he replied, with a smile; and taking her husband's arm she moved away, and was soon lost among the crowd. When she disappeared, Gerald turned to the Australian, quickly. "Well?" "I asked her about her brother," said Monteith, quietly; "and her story corresponds in every particular with that of Ventin." "Then you think Verschoyle is Ventin?" "Yes, I think so; but I will be certain to-morrow." "Oh! in what way?" "Mrs. Taunton is going to show me her brother's portrait." "And then?"