"Without asking permission our reporter stepped aside with the woman, and spoke privately to her. She had listened to the conversation in an agonized state of mind, turning her eyes alternately to her accuser and her defender with the air of one who was being hunted down. Helpless, despairing innocence was depicted in her face, and the favorable impression she had produced upon our reporter was strengthened. Had she not in his belief been connected in a manner yet to be explained with the Mystery of M. Felix he would have been inclined to champion her cause, and because of this belief he would have ranked himself on her side even if he had supposed that the charges brought against her were true. Without a shade of doubt she was a lady; her attire, although it bore no indications of worldly prosperity, her manners, her speech, unmistakably proclaimed the fact. She was apparently a little over forty years of age, and there were traces of long-endured suffering on her features. In her youth she must have possessed remarkable beauty, which even now could not fail in attracting attention; her figure was slight and graceful, her movements gentle and refined. These signs rendered her appearance at such an hour and under such circumstances sufficiently perplexing, but our reporter was satisfied to trust to the future for a satisfactory explanation of what at present, to a vulgar mind, was full of suspicion. "In stating that he was a properly qualified solicitor our reporter stated a simple fact. He had served articles in a solicitor's office, and had abandoned that profession for one which possessed greater attractions for him. "It occurred to him to test her, and he addressed her in French. She replied to him in the same language, but with an accent which put his to the blush. We shall, however, give what passed between them in our native tongue, for the sake of perfect clearness, and in the interests of those of our readers who may not be familiar with any other language than their own. "'You have not deceived me?' he asked. "'Indeed, indeed, I have not,' she replied, earnestly. 'I have spoken the truth. You will not desert me?' "'I will not. You may count upon me as a sincere friend; but you must confide in me implicitly. I will serve you honestly and faithfully. You have met with misfortunes?' "'Great misfortunes. I am a most unhappy woman!' "'Have you any other friends in London in whom you would confide in preference to me? If you have and will give me their names and addresses, I will bring them to you.' "'I have no other friend in this city in whom I can confide.' "'Not one who can assist you?' "'Not one.' "'Are you quite unknown here?' "'Yes.' "'But surely you are not entirely alone?' "She made an effort to speak, but words failed her; she raised her imploring eyes to his face. "'Strive to master your agitation,' he continued, 'and bend your mind upon the position in which you stand. You heard what the policeman said?'