Weary and heartsick, Agnes lay down on the sofa, to rest and compose herself. The careful nurse brought in a reviving cup of tea. Her quaint gossip about herself and her occupations while Agnes had been away, acted as a relief to her mistress’s overburdened mind. They were still talking quietly, when they were startled by a loud knock at the house door. Hurried footsteps ascended the stairs. The door of the sitting-room was thrown open violently; the courier’s wife rushed in like a mad woman. “He’s dead! They’ve murdered him!” Those wild words were all she could say. She dropped on her knees at the foot of the sofa—held out her hand with something clasped in it—and fell back in a swoon. The nurse, signing to Agnes to open the window, took the necessary measures to restore the fainting woman. “What’s this?” she exclaimed. “Here’s a letter in her hand. See what it is, Miss.” The open envelope was addressed (evidently in a feigned hand-writing) to “Mrs. Ferrari.” The post-mark was “Venice.” The contents of the envelope were a sheet of foreign note-paper, and a folded enclosure. On the note-paper, one line only was written. It was again in a feigned handwriting, and it contained these words: “_To console you for the loss of your husband._” Agnes opened the enclosure next. It was a Bank of England note for a thousand pounds. CHAPTER VI The next day, the friend and legal adviser of Agnes Lockwood, Mr. Troy, called on her by appointment in the evening. Mrs. Ferrari—still persisting in the conviction of her husband’s death—had sufficiently recovered to be present at the consultation. Assisted by Agnes, she told the lawyer the little that was known relating to Ferrari’s disappearance, and then produced the correspondence connected with that event. Mr. Troy read (first) the three letters addressed by Ferrari to his wife; (secondly) the letter written by Ferrari’s courier-friend, describing his visit to the palace and his interview with Lady Montbarry; and (thirdly) the one line of anonymous writing which had accompanied the extraordinary gift of a thousand pounds to Ferrari’s wife. Well known, at a later period, as the lawyer who acted for Lady Lydiard, in the case of theft, generally described as the case of “My Lady’s Money,” Mr. Troy was not only a man of learning and experience in his profession—he was also a man who had seen something of society at home and abroad. He possessed a keen eye for character, a quaint humour, and a kindly nature which had not been deteriorated even by a lawyer’s professional experience of mankind. With all these personal advantages, it is a question, nevertheless, whether he was the fittest adviser whom Agnes could have chosen under the circumstances. Little Mrs. Ferrari, with many domestic merits, was an essentially commonplace woman. Mr. Troy was the last person living who was likely to attract her sympathies—he was the exact opposite of a commonplace man.