"That girl is no more insane than I am, Fortescue. She is suffering from some terrible shock, but even now she has more self-control than nine women out of ten. What kind of a shock she has had I don't know, but am sure it is connected in some way with the Rosemere murder. If you ever do discover its exact nature, mark my words, you will find she has been through some ghastly experience and has borne up with amazing fortitude." "What do you think ought to be done for her?" "You will find that there is very little that can be done. Something is still hanging over her, I am sure; in fact she hinted as much to me. Now, unless we can find out the cause of her trouble and remove it, it is useless to look for an amelioration of her condition. In the meantime, let her have her head. She knows what she has to struggle against; we don't." "It's all very mysterious, but I wish we could help her." We had now reached his destination, and, with a hurried farewell, he disappeared into the station. I had promised Mrs. Derwent to let her know immediately the result of my talk with Storrs, so, without alighting, I drove at once to the hotel. In order to avoid arousing May's suspicions by calling so soon again, Mrs. Derwent had agreed to meet me in the hotel parlour. I told her as briefly as I could what the Doctor had said. When I had finished, I saw that she was struggling with conflicting emotions. "What can have happened to her? Oh, it is all so dreadful that I don't know what to think or fear." "Can't you get your daughter to confide in you?" "I will try," she murmured, as the large tears stole down her white cheeks, and, rising, she held out her long slender hand, on which sparkled a few handsome rings. As she stood there--tall, stately, still beautiful, in spite of her sufferings, her small, classic head crowned with a wreath of silvery hair--she looked like some afflicted queen, and I pitied her from the bottom of my heart. But was not my distress as great as hers! On leaving the poor lady I hurried back to my office, where I found Atkins sitting in a miserable heap. He looked so dreadfully ill that I was alarmed. "Have you had anything to eat to-day?" I asked. He shook his head in disgust. Without another word, I rang for my boy, and in a quarter of an hour a very passable little meal was spread on my table. "Now, eat that," I said. He frowned, and shook his head. "Atkins, you are behaving like a child; you must not fall ill now, or what will become of your wife?" He hesitated a minute, then sat obediently down. I drew up a chair also, and, by playing with some fruit, pretended to be sharing his meal. The more I watched him the more I became convinced that something must be done to relieve the tension under which he suffered. A new emotion might serve the purpose; so I said: "I have just found out some interesting facts about the murdered man." He dropped his knife and fork. "What?" he gasped.