She ran to another room, and obtaining the candle, returned with it alight. Her visitors sighed at the misery it displayed. Martha's arms were spread upon the table, and her head rested upon them. Prue pulled her mother's dress. "Who is she, mother?" "Your aunt Martha." Prue went to the sleeping woman, and tried to get a glimpse of her face. "I have bad news to tell you about your husband," said Grantham, speaking low, so that the child should not hear. "He has met with an accident, and has been taken to Charing Cross Hospital." He broke the news to her in a gentle voice, and she received it without emotion. Her husband had crushed all love for him from her breast long since, and she had felt for years that it would be a happy release if he were dead. "Is he much hurt, sir?" she asked, with tearless eyes. "I do not know. He was knocked down by a cab, and was carried to the hospital at once. He will be better cared for there than here." "Yes, sir; I have no money to pay for doctors. Did Prue see the accident?" "She knows nothing of it." "Drip--drip--drip! Oh, God! will it never stop?" It was Martha who was speaking. The men were awed by the despairing voice. "It's my sister, sir; I told you, I think. She came upon me quite sudden to-night. I haven't seen her for years. She's in trouble. Martha, Martha!" She shook the woman, who started wildly to her feet and looked this way and that with swift glances, more like a hunted animal than a human creature. Rathbeal uttered an exclamation. It was the woman he had seen that afternoon standing at Mr. Fox-Cordery's door. "Fate!" he said, and advanced toward her. A violent spasm of fear seized Martha, and shook her in every limb. Crazed perhaps by her dreams, or terrified by the suspicion of a hidden evil in the appearance of Rathbeal, whom she instantly recognized, and who must have tracked her down for some new oppression, she retreated as he advanced, and watching her opportunity, rushed past him from the room, and flew into the dark shelter of the streets. They gazed after her in astonishment, and then followed her into the alley, and thence into the wider thoroughfare, but they saw no trace of her. "Her troubles have driven her mad," said Mrs. Flower, "and no wonder. How she's lived through them is a mystery. She's in such a state that I'm afraid she'll do herself a mischief." "I intended her no harm," said Rathbeal. "I saw her once before to-day, and if my suspicions are well founded, it may be in my power to render her a service, even to obtain some kind of justice for her, if her troubles are caused by a man." "A man, you call him!" said Mrs. Flower, with bitter emphasis. "Do you know him?" "I heard his name for the first time to-night." "Is it Fox-Cordery?" In the dark he felt Robert Grantham give a start, and he pressed his arm as a warning to be silent.