"I'll reveal that in a few moments, Mrs. Jerusalem. I may tell you that I know all about Madaline Garry and the tattooed cross, also about Mr. Louis Fellenger." The woman drew back, and for the first time since Fanks had known her, an expression of surprise flitted across her face. "He said Mr. Louis," she said to herself. "How much does he know?" "He knows most of the circumstances which led to the murder in this house," retorted Fanks, moving towards the door, "and now with your assistance he is about to learn the rest." "At all events the truth will be bad for Louis Fellenger," muttered Mrs. Jerusalem. "If it was to benefit him I would not move a step. As it is," she added, throwing open the door, "come in, Mr. Fanks, and ask Mrs. Boazoph to tell you the story she related to me this morning." Fanks nodded, and without saying a word entered the apartment. In spite of the warm weather there was a fire burning in the grate, and beside it crouched Mrs. Boazoph. She was seated on the carpet warming her thin hands at the blaze; and she turned her face as the detective entered. He was astonished at the change wrought in her by illness. Her face was lined and drawn with pain; her hair was falling about her ears in rough masses; and the looseness of her dress showed how emaciated she had become. The poor creature was but a shadow of the notorious woman who had defied the police for so long; and at the first glance Fanks saw that death was written on her haggard face. If there was anything to be learned from this wreck there was no time to be lost in hearing it. Nemesis had claimed at least one victim for the death of Sir Gregory Fellenger;--or rather Edward Fielding. "Have you come here to see me die, Mr. Fanks?" asked Mrs. Boazoph, with a faint smile. "I hope it is not so bad as that," replied Fanks gently, for he pitied the exhaustion of the poor creature. "You may get better." Mrs. Boazoph shook her head. "I think not," she said quietly. "The end is coming fast. I do not care; my life has been none so happy that I should wish to live. I am anxious to die." "Are you anxious to make reparation for your crimes?" With a start Mrs. Boazoph looked at the other woman, who still stood at the door. "What have you told him?" she asked in a hoarse voice. "I have told him nothing," replied Mrs. Jerusalem, coldly, "but he knows all." "That is impossible," muttered Mrs. Boazoph, with a shiver. "He cannot know all. Who is there to tell him?" "I was told by the dead." "The dead? What dead?" "By your dead lover, on whose son you avenged your betrayal, Mrs. Bryant." She shivered, and looked up angrily. "Not that name, I am not Mrs. Bryant." "I can give you another name if you like," said Fanks, pointedly. "Shall I say Mrs. Fielding or--Madaline Garry?"