‘I think it has all been as you say. With regard to Mrs. Forster’s first acquaintance with this man, I can myself tell you something which will, I think, convince you of her innocence in the matter.’ Sutherland thereupon briefly recounted his first meeting with Madeline in the hotel at Fecamp, his suspicions of her companions, his offers of assistance; and explained also briefly the part he had taken afterwards, when they met again in Paris--saying nothing, however, of his own temporary misconception of Madeline’s true character, but describing the manner in which, on her abandonment by her pseudo-husband, he had restored her into the hands of her guardian. ‘That is all I know,’ he said in conclusion, ‘and I think it is enough to justify you in your noble faith in Mrs. Forster’s honour. From first to last, when a mere child, she was this man’s victim, and so sure as there is a God above us, her death lies at his door.’ Trembling with agitation, Forster rose to his feet. ‘Where is he? Let me see him! Yes, you are right--he has killed her. Tell me where he is, that I may find him out, and----’ At this moment a servant entered, bearing a card. A gentleman, he said, was waiting below desirous of seeing Mr. Forster on most important business. Almost mechanically Forster took the card and glanced at it. As he read the inscription upon it, he uttered a sharp cry and turned deathly pale. Graven on the card, in fantastic letters, with many characteristic flourishes, was the name-- _M. Auguste de Gavrolles._ The first shock of surprise over, Forster glanced up and found that Sutherland’s eyes were bent inquiringly upon his. He handed him the card. ‘My wish has been answered,’ he said with ominous calmness. ‘The very man I most wished to see is here, only I had rather the meeting had taken place beneath any roof but mine;’ then turning to the servant, he added, ‘Show the person into the drawing-room, and say I will come to him.’ The servant retired, and once more Sutherland and Forster were left alone. Sutherland stood as if transfixed, with the elegant piece of pasteboard bearing the Frenchman’s name held still before his eyes; while Forster, bereft now of all his calmness, paced excitedly up and down the room. The sight of the Frenchman’s name at such a time almost transformed him into a madman. Trembling from head to foot, yet pale as death, he at last rushed to the door, when Sutherland laid his hand upon his shoulder to detain him. ‘I see you have made up your mind to meet the man.’ ‘I have.’ ‘Well, so far I think you have done well, but before you meet him will you listen to some advice from me?’ ‘What do you want me to do?’