A SINGULAR ADVENTURE ON THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.

"He saw before him, at a distance of some thirty yards, as nearly as he could judge, the figure of a woman standing upon the stone ramparts of the Embankment, close to Cleopatra's Needle. The light of a lamp was shining upon her form, which was stooping forward in the direction of the river.

"It had already been mentioned that the tide on this night was unusually high, and our reporter was apprehensive, from the position of the woman, that she was contemplating suicide. If so she had chosen a favorable moment to put her sad design into execution, for there was no person near enough to prevent her had she been expeditious. She looked neither to the right nor to the left, but down before her on the rolling river. Our reporter hastened his steps, in fear least he should be too late to arrest her purpose.

"Unseen by them another man was approaching the woman, but not so rapidly as our reporter. This was a policeman who had emerged from the shadows of the Waterloo steps on the opposite side, and as, when he started, he was nearer to her than our reporter, they both reached her at the same moment. Each becoming aware of the other's presence, they would have shown recognition of it had not their attention been diverted by a sufficiently startling proceeding on the part of the woman. Still unaware that there were witnesses of her movements, she leaned forward at a perilous angle, and with all her strength threw some heavy object into the water. The force she used destroyed her balance, and she would have fallen into the river had not the policeman and our reporter laid violent hands upon her, and dragged her from her dangerous position on the ramparts.

"'Just in time, thank God!' said our reporter.

"'Just too late,' retorted the policeman. 'A moment sooner, and we should have saved her baby.'

"'Her baby!' exclaimed our reporter.

"'Yes. Didn't you hear the poor thing give a scream?'

"'No.'

"'You must be hard of hearing. First a sob, then a scream. Now, then, own up!'

"He shook the woman roughly, but obtained no response from her. She was cowering to the flagstones, her face hidden in her hands.

"Our reporter is not the stamp of man to stand idly by while the life of a human being is in danger. He stripped off his coat and waistcoat with the speed of lightning.

"'That's your sort,' said the policeman. 'I can't swim; you can.'

"'Not a stroke,' said our reporter, and was about to plunge into the river when the woman sprang up and caught his arm.

"'For God's sake,' she said, trembling with agitation, 'do not risk your life for nothing.'

"'Your baby is drowning,' cried our reporter. 'Let me go!' He strove vainly to extricate himself from her clutch.

"'You shall not, you shall not!' said the woman. 'As Heaven is my judge, I have done no wrong. I have no baby; I came out alone. You are a gentleman. By all that is sacred I speak the truth!'

"'The policeman says he heard a scream.'

"'He is mistaken. I beg you to believe me. Oh, unhappy woman that I am? Have I not one friend in all the wide world?'

"It was not alone her words that carried conviction with them, it was her deep distress, and the evident sincerity with which she spoke. Moreover, now that our reporter had the opportunity of observing her closely, he saw that she was not of a common stamp. There was a refinement in her voice and manner which impressed him.

"'I believe you,' he said, and slowly put on his waistcoat and coat.

"'The chance is lost,' said the policeman, with a scornful smile; 'the poor thing is dead by this time. A put-up job, my man. I wasn't born yesterday.'

"He had noted the dialogue between the woman and our reporter, some portion of which had escaped him, and his suspicions were aroused. He was not entirely without justification. Seeing upon one side of her a policeman, and on the other side a gentleman, the woman, being undoubtedly of the better class, had gravitated naturally toward our reporter. Thus at once was established, without premeditation, a conflict of interests in the eyes of the policeman. He represented the Law, which is invariably more suspicious than sympathetic. Opposing him were two strangers who might be in collusion. Hunting in couples, one of either sex, was a common trick of the criminal classes, with which every policeman is familiar. The officer with whom we are dealing was not of an analytic turn; he jumped rather at conclusions than motives; therefore, he pronounced the verdict first and examined the evidence afterward, or left it to others to examine. All that he was honestly concerned in was the performance of his duty.

"'Did you not hear her say,' said our reporter, 'that she was alone, and no baby with her?'

"'I heard something of the sort,' replied the policeman, candidly, believing it is another matter. 'I believe in my own ears. Are you a confederate of hers?'

"Our reporter laughed, and his laugh strengthened the policeman's suspicions and excited his ire.

"'Perhaps you will both deny,' he said, 'that something was thrown into the river.'

"'I certainly heard a splash,' said our reporter, and he looked at the woman for confirmation, but she said nothing.

"'We'll fish it up, whatever it is,' said the policeman. 'If it isn't a baby--which I say it is, as I heard it cry--it's stolen property. Pretty nigh as bad.' So saying, he blew his whistle.

"The sound terrified the woman; she clung to our reporter.

"'What need is there to summon assistance?' asked our reporter.

"'I know what I'm up to,' replied the policeman. 'I'll trouble you to come to the police station.

"'I intend to do so. Are you going to charge this lady?'

"A grateful sob escaped the woman, produced by the reference to her as a lady no less than by the considerate tone in which it was made.

"'If you're particularly anxious to know,' said the policeman, 'I am going to charge you both.'

"Much amused, our reporter asked, 'What do you charge her with?'

"'First, with drowning her baby; next, with attempting to commit suicide.' He paused in the middle of the sentence to blow his whistle again.

"'And what is your charge against me?'

"'Aiding and abetting. Come,' he said to the woman, putting his hand under her chin and attempting to raise her face to the light, 'let me have a look at you. A hundred to one I've seen you before.'

"He was so rough that the woman cried out.

"'Be very careful,' said our reporter, in a warning tone. 'If you use violence it will go against you.'

"'It will go against you,' retorted the policeman, who was losing his discretion.

"'That is to be seen,' said our reporter, gravely, 'when we reach the police-station. Meanwhile, you are acting outside your right in compelling this lady to look you in the face.'

"'Very well,' said the policeman, surlily, beginning to be shaken by the temperate conduct of our reporter, 'I hear assistance coming; I'll wait.'

"The measured tread of another policeman was heard in the near distance. Our reporter stood still, perfectly calm and self-possessed.

"The woman, now sobbing bitterly, drew her handkerchief from her pocket, and a piece of paper, which she undesignedly and unwittingly drew forth with it, fluttered to the ground. Only the sharp eyes of our reporter saw it, and he stooped and picked it up. He glanced at it without attracting the attention of the policeman, and what he saw both greatly astonished him and influenced his future course with respect to the woman. He felt instinctively that he held in his hand a thread, however slight and slender, in the Mystery of Monsieur Felix.

"Our readers will remember that in certain editions of the Evening Moon we inserted an advertisement referring to the death of M. Felix, but lest the precise terms of that advertisement should be forgotten by them we reprint it here, to refresh their memory. The advertisement ran as follows:

"'The Strange Death of M. Felix, in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of eight in the morning and twelve at night on the 16th of January, or who are in possession of information which will throw light upon the circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at the office of the Evening Moon, at any time after the appearance of this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all, who may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's death.'

"Up to the present time the advertisement had been productive of no result of any value. A great many persons had called at our office respecting it, but they knew nothing that was likely to be of assistance to us; their aim was to obtain money without giving an equivalent for it. That the step we took, however, was not useless was proved by what our reporter now held in his hand. It was the advertisement, cut carefully from our journal, pasted upon a sheet of note-paper, and framed, as it were, in clear lines of red ink. Surely it was not without reason that the woman had been thus painstaking with this extract. Surely there must be some connecting link between her and M. Felix, whose death and subsequent disappearance were still enveloped in mystery. Thus thought our reporter the moment his eyes fell upon the advertisement.

"The approach of the second policeman afforded him an opportunity of speaking to her concerning it. While the two policemen were talking, the second asking for information, the first giving it, he exchanged a few words with the woman.

"'You have dropped something,' he said.

"She put her hand hastily in her pocket and discovered her loss.

"'I have it,' said our reporter.

"'It is only a piece of paper,' said the woman; 'give it back to me.'

"'You had better let me keep it,' he said. 'You will be charged and searched at the police-station----'

"She interrupted h............