'Stay,' said Bryan, who had again taken up the paper; 'here are some farther particulars. The manager of the hotel deposed that, on examining the room occupied by the deceased, he found a small American valise, containing a suit of clothes, some linen, and the usual dressing apparatus; a valuable gold watch had been left on the dressing-table, which, at the request of the jury, was handed to them. Here,' continued Bryan, still reading the newspaper, 'a curious incident occurred. One of the jury was our well-known townsman, Mr. Hand, the watch and clock maker, who served his time in America. On examining this watch, Mr. Hand declared, without hesitation, that a certain portion of its works was made under the patent of the celebrated house of Tiffany, in New York. All possible search and inquiry seems to have been made by the police and others concerned, but without any effect. The conclusion of the story is to be found in the verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, so we must wait and see what time will bring forth. Poor Foster--poor fellow!' 'Poor dear Mr. Foster!' sobbed Miss Montressor, in great agitation. 'I declare it is one of the most horrible things I ever knew. What will his poor wife say, when she hears the news?' 'Has he a wife?' asked Mr. Brighthurst. 'O dear yes; a sweetly pretty woman, with one young child.' 'It's pretty rough on her, poor thing,' said Mr. Brighthurst, a shadow stealing over his handsome features. 'Yes; and the most awful part of it is, that even now she must be in complete ignorance of what has happened, for I saw her this very night at the theatre.' 'At the theatre?' cried several. 'At the theatre, not two hours since,' cried Miss Montressor. 'I have most excellent reasons for believing that the lady I saw was Mrs. Foster.' 'My dear Miss Montressor,' said Mr. Brighthurst, leaning forward, 'I think, I trust, you are mistaken. The news that an American gentleman named Foster had been found murdered in Liverpool was received here by cable, without any particulars, several days since, and was published in all the newspapers. It would have been impossible that Mrs. Foster, or some of her family or friends, should not have seen it.' 'It may be that I am mistaken,' said Miss Montressor. 'I trust I am, for it is an awful thing to think of that pretty creature amusing herself at the theatre with this awful thunder-cloud ready to break over her head.' And Miss Montressor's tears again began to flow. Bryan Duval, who had been listening silently but most attentively to this colloquy, then roused himself. 'I think, my dear Clara, you had better retire for a few minutes, and endeavour to compose yourself. Gentlemen, I am sure you will excuse Miss Montressor for a time; this news has been too much for her. We will rejoin you later.'