To the surprise of Fanks, the young man gave a kind of gasp, and without a word he turned and led the way into the house. This behaviour was so different to his usual manner, that Fanks suspected trouble; and, with nothing but his incurable suspicion to go on, he wondered if this agitation was in any way connected with the business he had come about. In plain words, with the tattooed cross; and with the crime of Tooley's Alley. The room into which Hersham ushered the detective, was a simply-furnished apartment of a bright and cheerful character. Furniture, carpet, wallpaper, and curtains, were all of a light and pleasant complexion. Two dwarf book-shelves on either side of the fireplace were filled with well-chosen volumes; while boxing gloves and foils on the walls showed that the tastes of the journalist were not exclusively literary. Excellent pictures adorned the walls; and photographs--mostly those of pretty women--were ranged on the mantlepiece. As a whole, the room was remarkably bright and attractive in both of which respects it thoroughly reflected the character of its occupant. With commendable hospitality, Hersham produced a bottle of whisky, two glasses, and a jug of water. Signing to Fanks to help himself, he sat in a chair near the window, and waited for his apparently unwelcome visitor to speak. Fanks did not open his mouth, and Hersham looked up to see the cause of his silence. The detective was staring at the photographs on the mantleshelf--or rather, he was gazing with astonished eyes at one portrait. It was little wonder that he did so; for the picture was that of the young woman, who had appeared and disappeared so unexpectedly at the chambers of Sir Gregory Fellenger, in Half-Moon Street. For once in his life, Fanks was rendered dumb with astonishment. "What are you staring at?" asked Hersham, sharply. The detective pointed to the picture. "Who is that young lady?" he asked in a tone of intense curiosity. "I don't see what business that is of yours," replied Hersham, "but to gratify your curiosity I may tell you she is the girl I am engaged to." "The girl you are engaged to! Is she alive?" "Of course she is," said Hersham, half angry, half amused, "why should she be dead. Do you know her? Have you seen her? Why do you ask?" "I shall tell you that later on," answered Fanks, "but tell me. Is the name of that girl Emma Calvert?" "I never heard of Emma Calvert," retorted Hersham, crossly, "the name of that young lady is Anne Colmer." "Of Taxton-on-Thames?" "Yes! Of Taxton-on-Thames." CHAPTER XIII. THE TATTOOED CROSS.