"I did not know that," said Hersham. "Emma told her mother that she was married, but she did not write where. Well, young Vaud had an attack of brain fever, and afterwards he went on a sea voyage. On his return he crossed to Paris to learn what had become of Emma. He ascertained that she was dead and buried; in some way he learned the whole miserable history. Vaud returned to England to see Fellenger; but before he could meet with him the baronet was killed in Tooley's Alley; and the fate of Emma was avenged by an unknown hand. That is the story, Fanks; you can make what use you like of it." "It is a wretched story," replied Fanks. "I can now understand the hatred which young Vaud bears towards the memory of his false friend; and I can understand also how I mistook Anne for Emma. But," added Fanks, with emphasis, "I cannot understand why Anne came to the chambers of Fellenger, and why she ran away when she saw me." Hersham looked jealous, and frowned. "I cannot understand that myself," he said. "She hated Fellenger as much as did Herbert Vaud; and I do not know why she should go to the rooms of the scoundrel." "She asked for the valet." "Robert, the whimpering, pitiful dog?" "Anne might have gone to see him to ask for particulars of her sister's death." "Well, yes," replied Fanks, thoughtfully; "but that does not explain why she went away when she saw me." "I can only surmise that she did not wish to explain what brought her there, and so tell the tale of her sister's death to a stranger." "No, there is more in it than that," said the detective, remembering that Anne had been among the crowd on the night of the murder; "but we will talk of this hereafter. In the meantime, let us return to the main object of my visit, and show me this famous cross." Hersham made no objection to this request, and removed his coat. Rolling up his sleeve he exposed the cross tattooed on the flesh of the left forearm. It was a St. Catherine cross, the size of a florin, and Fanks examined it long and carefully. "Did you get that tattooed at school?" he asked when Hersham had resumed his coat. "I did not get it done at all. I have had it ever since I can remember; and I have asked my father often about it, but he cannot, or will not, give me any information." "He will not most probably. Are you sure that there is no story attached to the tattooing?" "None that I know of; but my father might be better informed." "Would your mother know?" "I have no mother; she died when I was a baby." "Strange," muttered Fanks, pensively; "it is strange that you should have this mark on you and yet be ignorant of its significance. I wish you would speak to your father about it." "He won't tell me anything; I have asked him before." "You have no idea why a cross similar to this should have been tattooed on Sir Gregory's arm by a negro?" "Certainly not. I did not even know Sir Gregory." "I wonder if your father could tell me?"