"Good-bye," she cried. Then she became lost to me. I told the driver where to go, and sat back in the vehicle, plunged in my own thoughts. I was like a man in a dream. The mystery was most tantalising. Feeling weak, I stopped at a public-house and had some brandy. Indeed, I felt so unwell that I sat in the bar-parlour fully half an hour before resuming my drive. Suddenly I recollected that I might gather something from the driver, and I inquired where he had taken me up. "In Albert Road, Battersea, sir." This surprised me, for I had no idea that I had been on the Surrey side of the river. I explained to the man my blindness, and asked him to describe the lady who had put me into this cab. "Well, sir," he said, "she was very pretty indeed, with grey eyes and darkish hair." "She was good-looking--eh?" "Yes, sir. I don't think I've ever seen a much prettier young lady." I sighed. How tantalising it was that my poor sightless eyes had been unable to gaze upon her. "Describe her more closely," I urged. "I'm anxious to know exactly what she's like." "She had lovely eyes, sir. Her hair seemed a bit untidy, but it was a pretty shade of dark-brown. Her face seemed innocent-looking, like a child's. I was surprised to see her like that." "Like what?" "Half-drowned like. She had on a black skirt that seemed soaking wet through, and covered with mud. She looked in an awful plight, and yet her face was merry and smiling. She took another cab as soon as she parted from you, and drove after us across the Albert Bridge, and then down Oakley Street. There she stopped the cab to speak to some one." "Who was it?" I asked eagerly. "A woman. But I couldn't see distinctly. They were too far away, and turned down Cheyne Walk, so I didn't see 'em any more." "You say that her clothes were very dirty?" "Yes, worse than yours, and, great Scott! sir, they're bad enough. You'll want to send 'em to the cleaners when you get 'ome." What the man said was perfectly true. The slime of the river emitted a sickening stench, but it fortunately served to conceal one thing, namely, the blood-stains upon my coat. I laughed at this remark of his, but I had no intention to enter upon explanations. "From her appearance did my companion lead you to believe that she was a lady?" "Oh yes, sir. By her manner you'd tell her as a lady among ten thousand." "There was nothing noticeable about whereby I might recognise her again? Try and recollect." "No, sir," answered the man. "She was a very beautiful young lady, and that's all I noticed." "You'd know her again if you saw her?" "I should just say I would," laughed the man. "When a chap sees a woman as lovely as she is it ain't likely he'll forget her, even though he may have a wife and 'arf a dozen kids at 'ome." "You're smitten by her beauty, it seems," I laughed. "What's your name?" "West, sir--Tom West. Number L.C.432. I stand on the rank at Hyde Park Corner."