All London rang with the romantic facts that were elicited at the inquest over the body of poor, murdered Sydney, but though the examination was conducted with the utmost strictness, and every available witness was interrogated, no light was thrown upon the matter that could lead to a conviction of the murderer. Everyone who heard the tragic story of how Sydney came to her death, thought that Madame Reine De Lisle's evidence would certainly furnish some satisfactory clew to the enemy who had sought her life. To their surprise and consternation, she declared herself utterly ignorant in the matter. The note which Sydney had read was found on the dressing-room floor but Queenie did not recognize the writing and could not guess the writer. "If I had found the note myself I should have thought precisely as she did, that it was written by Captain Ernscliffe," she admitted, frankly. "But I should not have gone to meet him, for I had promised my sister to avoid him, and deny my identity to him. I have not an enemy upon earth that I am aware of, neither a jealous lover who might seek my life. I had an enemy once, who was cruel and vindictive enough for any deed of darkness, but he is dead long ago." They cross-examined her, they tried to trip her in every way, but she never varied in her evidence, and never faltered in her reiterated declarations, so at last they let her go, feeling convinced that nothing but the truth had passed her lips. So the mystery only deepened, and taken together with the romance and pathos that clung about the story of the resurrected wife and her brilliant career while seeking her husband, it created a perfect _furor_ of excitement. The interested parties had tried to keep it a secret, but the facts had leaked out in spite of them. Everybody had heard that the great actress was Captain Ernscliffe's first wife, who had died and been resurrected from the grave and restored to life, kept a prisoner for months, then escaped, and been cared for in her friendlessness and desolation by an old actor and actress, who had found her dying in the wintery night when she had escaped from her cruel jailers. They had taught her their profession, and she had gone upon the stage to earn money to seek her husband. All this the world knew, and it knew also that the proud Lady Valentine and her mother refused to recognize the actress, and branded her as a lying impostor. All these facts only added to the interest and admiration that had followed La Reine Blanche wherever she moved. And poor Sydney was laid away in her grave, while her cowardly murderer roved at large, "unwhipped of justice." One single clew to the criminal had been found. Captain Ernscliffe had employed the most noted detective of the day to ferret out the mystery. This man had been thoroughly over the ground of the murder, and had found one trifling clew.