Fanks made no attempt to stop him; for he saw that the woman had defeated him, and the only thing left for him to do was to retire with the best possible grace. To this end he paid his cab, shrugged his shoulders, and went upstairs again. Since the woman had succeeded in escaping him, the solution of the problem lay entirely with Robert. Then a miracle. On the way up to the chambers the memory of that face flashed across the mind of Fanks. "Ah!" he said, with a start, "I remember now. I saw that face in the crowd round the Red Star, on the night of the murder." CHAPTER VIII. A MYSTERIOUS PARCEL. Before Fanks finally dismissed the matter of that futile chase he asked a question of his friend the constable. "Did you notice," said he, "if that young lady had a friend with her?" "No, Mr. Fanks," said the other, promptly, "she was all alone." "Humph! I thought so," meditated Fanks, as he ascended the stairs, "the accusing friend was a myth. Well, I guess there's a vacancy for a fool, and I'm elected. I've lost her once; but she won't escape me a second time. Taxton-on-Thames isn't London." The links of the chain which brought forth this remark were as follows:--The postal mark on the envelope was Taxton-on-Thames; the handwriting thereon was the same as that on the back of the photograph--to all appearance that of the missing woman--therefore Fanks thought that he might gain some information about her in the village. The link of the writings connected her with the riverside town; and by following such a clue he hoped to arrive at some knowledge of her identity. With this resolution, he entered the chambers and found Robert restored to sensibility, sitting on the sofa, with Garth and Maxwell in attendance. The latter looked up eagerly as the detective entered. But Fanks had no idea of letting an inferior into his methods of working, and he dismissed him forthwith. "Maxwell, you can leave the room," he said sharply; and when the policeman had taken his departure he turned to Garth, and continued, "I lost her after all, my friend; she gave me the slip with singular dexterity. That going down to bring up a witness was all bosh; she told that story as a blind to get out of the room without suspicion." "But who is she?" asked Garth, at this tale of failure. Fanks smiled grimly, and looked at the valet. "No doubt Robert can tell us that, he said, significantly. "I think she is Lady Fellenger--Emma Calvert," said Robert, faintly. "That is all nonsense. You told us distinctly that Emma Calvert was dead; the inscription on the portrait affirms your statement. How then can this living woman be the lady in question?" "It might have been her ghost." "Rubbish! Ghosts don't appear in the daytime; and drive off in cabs; moreover there are no such things as ghosts. Your explanation is weak, Robert; try another story." "It is the best that I can give, sir; if she isn't Emma Calvert; who is she?"