But Dibble remembered how clever that mysterious lady of the show was; how fierce she was, and he trembled at the bare idea of her exercising any of her black arts upon him, in case he should betray her secret. It was quite clear that she did not wish him to know her; but he had made no mistake at all, he was sure of that; and Mrs. Dibble was sharp enough to see that there was some mystery here which she would assuredly have cleared up before Dibble went to sleep that night. An unfortunate night altogether was this for the “mysterious lady.” Mr. Williamson had sent a messenger to the house for Lieutenant Somerton soon after Dibble’s strange arrival, and Paul had taken a cab, as requested, to the Temple, where he found the barrister in company with an unknown gentleman. “This is Mr. Bales, the detective officer, of whom you have heard me speak,” said the barrister. Paul bowed. “My friend, Lieutenant Somerton,” said the barrister, introducing Paul. The detective nodded in deliberate professional fashion. “Mr. Bales has executed that old warrant to-day, and Shuffleton Gibbs, _alias_ Mr. Jefferson Crawley, of Carr Court, Regent Street West, is now in custody. (Paul looked a little bewildered, and sat down.) Mr. Bales is a great friend of mine, and I tell him that it might not be advisable after all this time to reopen the case. Mr. Bales fears that we shall be compelled to proceed with it. But there is, it appears, some other case against him, though not quite so clear as that of the pocket-book. Mr. Bales will call here again in an hour before anything further is done: meanwhile you and I will talk affairs over. Good-bye for the present, Bales.” The detective officer nodded in reply and left the room, and then Mr. Williamson, alluding to that first gleam of suspicion in connection with Paul’s attempt to borrow money, went on to tell his friend that this woman whom Paul had made up his mind to marry was the wife of Shuffleton Gibbs. He believed he should be able to produce the marriage certificate. Gibbs knew where she was, and had told this to the detective. He had found her out within a week of her disappearance, through Macschawser, and he talked boldly of an action for abduction and other tremendous things. Paul would not believe a word of it. His friend had surely entered into a plot against him. Then he remembered the strange conduct of Dibble, and hesitated. “I have only one duty to perform in this matter,” said the barrister, “and that is to show you the character of the precipice upon which you stand, and then leave you to your fate. Have you obtained the sanction for your change of regiment?” “Yes,” said Paul; “and the vessel sails next month.” “For the Cape of Good Hope?” “Yes.” “Now, my dear boy, I know you believe in my friendship; will you permit me to investigate this affair for you, and undertake to give the facts proper consideration before you take further action?”