And, in the fourth place, it had been discovered that there were situate two houses in the very heart of London having a subterraneous passage connecting them, and this subterranean communicating with several dark and gloomy dungeons, decently furnished, and in which half-a-dozen prisoners had recently been confined. One of these prisoners was now known to be Benjamin Bones; but what had become of the other five? Such were the circumstances which took the whole town by storm, and produced a tremendous sensation from one end of London to the other--the intelligence reaching even Lady Hatfield, retired and secluded as was her mode of living. Shortly after ten o’clock on that eventful evening, a private carriage drove up to the house in Red Lion Street; and Mr. de Medina, Esther, and Lord Ellingham alighted. Jacob Smith leapt down from the box; and in a few moments the entire party entered the dwelling, thus disappearing from the gaze of the assembled crowd. The Jew, his daughter, and the young nobleman were immediately conducted by one of Rainford’s dependants into the apartment where the unhappy husband of the murdered Tamar was pacing up and down, Dykes sitting in a corner watching his movements. The prisoner was no longer disguised: during the interval which had elapsed since his arrest, he had, by the officer’s express desire, washed off the black dye from his face and hands; and he now wore his natural aspect in one sense--though, in another, his expressive countenance was altered by the despair that filled his soul. “Oh! Thomas--what terrible afflictions have occurred!” exclaimed Lord Ellingham, as he flew into his half-brother’s arms. “You will not reproach me, Arthur-----Oh! do not augment my grief!” cried Rainford: and he wept bitter tears. “No one will reproach you, excellent young man,” said Mr. de Medina, taking the hand of his bereaved son-in-law. “But----Oh! my daughter--my daughter, Tamar! Great God! thou hast chosen to afflict me deeply--deeply!” In the meantime, Esther de Medina had thrown herself into a chair, giving way to the wildest paroxysms of grief--the Earl of Ellingham having vainly accosted her with the hope of importing some slight consolation. But, alas! he himself was a prey to the most poignant anguish: and, even had he been more calm, how was it possible to comfort Esther de Medina for the loss--the cruel assassination--of that sister whom she loved so tenderly and so well? “Thomas,” at length said the Earl, approaching his half-brother, “has Jacob Smith told us the dreadful tale correctly?--and is it--he--Benjamin Bones--who has done this? My God! I have scarcely been able to comprehend all the terrible particulars!” “It is true--it is too true--I know that it is!” exclaimed Mr. de Medina, shaking his head in despair. “Yes--Tamar is no more; but--at least--let me behold her remains!”