"Yes, sir," said the man, moistening his dry lips. "Do you know Taxton-on-Thames?" "No, sir; I never heard of it." Startled by this calm denial, Fanks bent forward to observe the man's face. He was satisfied by a glance that Robert had spoken the truth; he had never heard of Taxton-on-Thames. This discovery puzzled the detective. "Did your master--your late master--know of it?" he interpolated. "Not that I am aware of, sir; he never mentioned the name to me." "Robert," said Garth, solemnly, "you denied some time ago that Sir Gregory was entangled with a woman. Think again and answer truly." Robert shifted from one foot to the other and looked uneasily at his questioner. Then he made an evasive reply. "Sir Gregory was connected with no woman at the time of his death," he said, doggedly. "That may be; but was he connected with a woman in 1893?" The valet started back with a gasp. "How did you hear of that?" he asked, shaking in every limb. "I heard it from no one; but I guessed it from this picture." With a sudden movement he thrust the photograph under the eyes of the pale and trembling creature. After one glance Robert recoiled with an ejaculation of horror, and covered his face with his hands. Expecting revelations, Fanks waited and watched. "Come!" said Garth, quietly, "I see that you recognise the woman. Her name, if you please?" "I--I--promised never to speak of her." "You must--for your own sake." "I dare not. Let me go, Mr. Garth!" He broke away from the lawyer, but before he could reach the door he was in the grip of Fanks. "Come, Robert," said the latter, soothingly, "you must make the best of a bad job. I know that you were devoted to your master. At the same time he is dead, and it is necessary that the mystery of his death should be cleared up. On the whole," added Fanks, looking into the eyes of the servant, "I think it advisable that you should confess." "The woman you speak of had nothing to do with the death of my master." "I am not asking you that. I am inquiring her name. Answer!" The sudden imperiousness in the detective's tone made Robert's heart sink within him. He was incapable of a prolonged struggle, and forthwith answered with all submissiveness-- "I--I--don't know her real name." "What did she call herself?" "Emma Calvert." "Ah! And what did you call her, Robert?" The valet looked at Garth with a look of malicious triumph. "I called her Lady Fellenger," he said slowly. Garth sprang up with a sudden exclamation, but he was stopped by Fanks, who rapidly questioned the valet. "Was Emma Calvert really and truly the wife of your master?" "Yes, sir; they were married quietly in a Hampstead church. She was in a dressmaker's shop, and my master was very much in love with her. I heard that she was engaged to another gentleman, but she threw him over, and married Sir Gregory before they went to Paris."