"Have you ever seen Dudley with this in his hand?" I asked, repeating my question seriously, determined upon learning the truth. "Where did you find it?" she inquired, a look of bewilderment upon her haggard face. "You have not answered my question, Ella," I said sternly. "Your question? Ah!" she cried, as if in sudden remembrance of my words. "I--I have never seen Dudley with it. I--I swear I haven't." "Is that the absolute truth?" I asked in doubt. "The truth!" she echoed. "Did I not, a moment ago, promise you I would never again deceive you by word or action? Can you never have confidence in me?" she asked, in a tone of mingled regret and reproach. "But this was found in Dudley's possession," I said, holding it nearer my gaze, and detecting in the bright sunlight streaming through the window small portions of black wax still adhering to the cleverly-cut coat of arms. Black wax, I remembered, had been used to secure the dummy envelope. "And even if that were so, is it such a very remarkable fact that a man should carry a seal?" she asked suddenly, raising her brows and assuming a well-feigned air of surprise. At that instant it occurred to me that she was an adept in preserving a mystery; she could practice deception with a verisimilitude little short of marvellous. "But this," I observed, "is no ordinary seal." "It looks ordinary enough," she answered, smiling. "It's only brass." "But its discovery forms a clue to a most serious and startling crime," I said. "A crime!" she gasped. "What do you mean? Dudley's murder?" I did not fail to notice that she used the word "murder" as if she had absolute proof that death had not been due to natural causes. Yet the effect of my announcement had been to fill her with sudden apprehension. She strove to appear amazed, but I thought I could detect in her attitude and bearing a fear that I had knowledge of her secret. "It is most probably connected with that tragic event," I answered meaningly, looking her straight in the face. "The police will no doubt pursue their investigations and clear up the matter." "The police!" she whispered hoarsely, just as Mrs Laing had done when the officers had entered her house. "Do you think they will discover the cause of poor Dudley's death?" "I cannot say," I answered calmly. "They will, however, discover the reason he had this seal in his possession." "I tell you it was not his--I mean I never saw him with it," she protested. "But he may have had it in his pocket and not shown it to you. Indeed, there were reasons that he should not do so because it was used for a nefarious purpose." "For what?" she asked, suddenly evincing an interest in the stamp, taking it from my hand and examining it closely. It was on my tongue to relate to her the whole circumstances, but suddenly remembering that for the present the secret of England's peril must be preserved if the identity of the spy were to be discovered, I refrained, and answered,--