Ronald looked up suddenly. "What are you going to do next?" he asked, wearily. "Wait, and see Roper. He is on his way also, and I should not be surprised if he came in the same boat with her. So he may, perhaps, give us clearer information than we have already received." Ronald groaned. "This is the irony of fate," he said, in a dull voice. "Had I known how this case was likely to affect the woman I love best in the world, I would not have undertaken it, and the thing might have remained a mystery for ever." "Possibly," replied Foster, pointedly; "but you forget, others might have taken it up. Besides, when you started in the case you did not love Miss Cotoner, and, moreover, did not know how closely she was connected with the author of the crime." Ronald rose to his feet and took his hat and stick. "I am going to the hotel," he said, "to lie down. I feel quite worn out." "When may I see you again?" asked Foster, accompanying him to the door. "To-morrow, when Roper arrives," and Monteith left the room without saying good-bye. "Poor boy!" said Gerald, as he went back to his work, "he is very much cut up--and no wonder! Where will it all end? I expect in smoke; because the evidence is too slight, even to convict that woman. Well, we shall see when Roper arrives." Ronald walked along the crowded street as in a dream, and paid no attention to the buzz of voices around and the noise of the traffic. So preoccupied he was with his own sad thoughts that he did not see that a man was walking beside him, till the latter spoke, and then he looked up with a start, and saw Vassalla looking at him with an amused smile. "Eh, my friend," said the Marchese, lightly, "in what day-dream are you lost?" "Not a very pleasant one," returned Ronald, coldly. "I was thinking of our conversation this morning." Vassalla shrugged his shoulders. "You might have had more pleasant thoughts," he said, with a sneer. "I might," returned Monteith, emphatically. "I might have thought every word you said this morning true." The Marchese changed colour a little, and drew himself up haughtily. "Is this an insult, sir?" he asked. "As you please," retorted Ronald, indifferently. "You will understand my meaning plainly, when I tell you that I had the pleasure of an interview with Miss Cotoner this morning." "Indeed!" said Vassalla, his face looking as black as thunder; "and she said--" "More than you would have cared to hear," replied the Australian. "She simply contradicted every word you said, and told me that her sister came on board and said good-bye to her, and that you, the Marchese Vassalla, knew she was there, and saw her down the gangway as she left the ship." "It's a lie," retorted Vassalla, livid with rage; "Mrs. Verschoyle was not on board."