Pauline had indeed need for a little quiet, in which she might turn over in her mind the news which she had just heard, and calculate its bearing on her future. Mr. Calverley, under the assumed name of Claxton, was living with this woman at Hendon; and of course was in the habit of visiting her, when he pretended that he was away on business, inspecting the ironworks in the North. Pauline saw that at once, and half smiled as she allowed to herself that Mrs. Calverley's hatred of the Swartmoor ironworks was not without cause. And as for the reverend's story that the woman had been betrayed by a false marriage--bah! that was to be taken for what it was worth. What a strange old man, this Calverley! How rusé, how cunning! He had deceived even her. So quiet and staid and long-suffering as he seemed! It was not difficult to understand now why Mr. Claxton had never been formally presented to the household at Great Walpole-street. She was--stay, though! the link connecting her with Tom Durham, that was still wanting, and must be found. Could the reverend help her to it? She would try. 'Tell me, Monsieur Martin, is this the first time you have seen this poor creature who has been so cruelly deceived?' When Martin Gurwood raised his face, his cheeks were flushed at the imputation which he conceived Pauline's question to convey. 'This is the first time I have seen the lady,' he said, in a grave tone, 'and it is only lately that I have known of her existence.' 'Indeed,' said Pauline. 'And from whom did you hear of her existence--not from Madame Calverley?' 'Good Heavens, no!' cried Martin. 'It is of the utmost importance, for more reasons than one, that my mother should know nothing of this sad affair.' 'Exactly,' said Pauline, looking at him narrowly; 'I perfectly agree with you. Then from whom did you have the information? You will pardon me, Monsieur Martin,' she added in a soft voice, 'but I take such an interest in this sad affair.' 'From Mr. Broadbent, the doctor residing in this village. He happened to be with Doctor Haughton when the body was found, and recognised it as that of the gentleman whom he had known as Mr. Claxton.' 'O, indeed! how sadly interesting!' she said. 'This reverend knows nothing about this pale-faced woman,' she thought to herself, 'and cannot help me in any way respecting her. Why my husband left me, where he is now, that tormenting mystery of my life, is still--save that I know that he and this woman are not now together--as far from solution as ever. That knowledge is, however, a point gained, and possessed as I am of this secret, I think I shall be enabled not merely to prevent their coming together again, but to have my revenge on her for what she has done already. And now let us see how the land lies, and how this reverend intends to proceed in the matter. His plumes were rather ruffled, I thought, just now; I must set them straight again.'