Ronald looked at him in amazement. "What is beautifully arranged?" he asked, shortly. "The plot." "Plot--what plot?" Foster arose from his chair, and walked slowly to and fro with his hands behind his back. "I tell you what, my boy," he said, rapidly, "this thing is becoming more mysterious with every fresh discovery. Verschoyle had no enemy, as far as we know, but his wife; we have documentary evidence saying she intended to murder him, and he was murdered at the very place where she was staying. Roper says she did not leave the house. Vassalla says she was not on board. Her own letter says she was confined to her room with a headache. Fudge! I don't believe any one of them." "Then you think she was on board?" asked Ronald, eagerly. "I'm certain of it. I ask you, as a logical man, whether a jealous woman like Mrs. Verschoyle, knowing her husband was on board the 'Neptune,' could resist the temptation of seeing him? Nonsense! I tell you she was on board, and if Vassalla says she was not, he has a reason." "What reason can he have?" "He wants to shield her from the consequences of her crime. He is her cousin, and blood is thicker than water." "This is all very well," said Ronald, quietly; "but all your views are quite theoretical, and we cannot obtain a single particle of evidence to prove that she came on board at all." "How do you know we cannot?" "Well, there's Roper's letter--her own letter and Vassalla's denial. Who else can prove she was on board?" "Miss Cotoner." "Oh!" Ronald arose and went to the window. "I don't think so," he said, turning round. "If Mrs. Verschoyle quarrelled with her sister, it's not likely she'd go near her." "Perhaps not, but Miss Cotoner might have seen her. You'd better go and ask her." Ronald hesitated a moment, then made up his mind, "Very well; I'll call at the Langham this afternoon, and may possibly see her; but I think it's a wild goose chase." "We'll see," said Foster, shortly, returning to his books, while Ronald went off to his hotel, took a light luncheon, then dressing himself carefully, ordered a hansom, and drove to the Langham. Carmela was in, so Ronald sent up his card to her, and asked for the favour of an interview. This, however, Carmela hesitated before granting, as she was very angry with Ronald's supposed treachery towards herself. Had she not seen her rival with her own eyes, and been told of Monteith's infatuation for that detestable woman, as she called innocent Mrs. Taunton? And now he had the bad taste to ask for an interview--well, she would grant his request, and would show him that she was not a woman to be lightly won and thrown over. What consummate actresses women are! When Ronald entered her drawing-room, he expected to find Carmela pale and anxious, through fretting over his long absence from her side, and it was rather a blow to his self-love when she came forward with a bright, smiling face and outstretched hands.