Sophy and I were lying on two couches placed so that my eyes could rest upon her face. A day and a night had elapsed since our rescue, and I had gained strength surprisingly. With the help of Bob I had dressed myself in the afternoon, and seeing that the exertion had nearly exhausted me he insisted upon my lying down on a couch. I, on my part, upon learning that Sophy had also with assistance dressed herself, in "spick and span new clothes," as she afterwards informed me, insisted feebly but firmly that she should be brought into my room, so there we were, gazing at each other, and rapidly recovering from the terrible ordeal through which we had passed. Warm baths, an entire change of clothing, rest in a soft bed--surely the clean sheets were the most delicious that mortal ever lay between--nourishing food, and the blessed sense of safety, had done wonders for us. Bob had refused with stern kindness to give me any account of his movements until I was in a fit condition to listen to him, and it was not until this day that he consented to place me in possession of the facts. His statement, up to a certain point, will be best explained in his own words.

"Two days having passed," he said, "without hearing from you, I became anxious. The last letter I received from you was written in Monkshead, and in it you informed me that you were going farther on, but you did not mention the name of the place for which you were bound. As you had left Monkshead, it was useless my wiring or writing to you there, so I was compelled to wait your pleasure. Of course, in these circumstances, one always thinks that a letter has gone wrong, and as no other arrived I inferred that you had given me some information of your movements in the supposed missing letter, without which I had no idea what to do. At length I came to the conclusion that you had returned to London, and I determined to follow you. Even if I did not see you there, I might learn from your family or friends something which would enlighten me as to where you were, and what you were doing. Your family had not heard from you, and as they did not appear in any anxiety concerning you, I said nothing, you may be sure, that would cause them alarm. Then I sought an interview with the lady whose cause you espoused, and whom should I meet with her but M. Bordier. He was the soul of politeness, and I could not fail to be impressed by the radiant happiness which shone in the lady's face. I ascribed this joyful expression to the document which M. Bordier had found in the secret drawer of the desk, the particulars of which he had jealously concealed from me. Neither he nor the lady had heard from you. 'We hope to see him soon,' the lady said, 'to thank him for his wonderful kindness to us.' Before I left them M. Bordier drew me aside, and expressed a hope that I would do nothing to make public what had transpired with respect to the purloining of the desk, and the discovery of an important document in it. 'I assure you,' he said, 'that it is entirely a private matter, and that publicity would cause the deepest pain to unoffending persons.' I replied that I should do nothing of my own accord, and that the matter rested with you, and you alone. He thanked me, and we parted."

I interrupted Bob here. "Did M. Bordier make no reference to a trial in which he had been involved?"

"Nothing."

"Have you read of no trial in which his name appears?"

"No. Let me finish first; you will have plenty to tell me when I have done. From M. Bordier I went to the office of the Evening Moon, and was equally unsuccessful in obtaining news of you. Somewhat puzzled I made my way back to the neighborhood of Tylney House, and thence went on to Monkshead. I had no particular fears for your safety, but I resolved, if possible, to track you. It was only on the second day of my arrival at Monkshead that I obtained news which led me to believe you had gone to Deering. Away I posted to Deering, and there I learned that you had gone to Glasserton, on what errand was not known. The landlord's daughter had shown you a short cut through the woods. I took the high road, as less likely to mislead me: but I may mention that before I started from Deering the girl who directed you informed me that only you and a young girl had gone to Glasserton. What, then, had become of Crawley? At Glasserton I heard that two persons answering to the description of you and Sophy had been in the village, that you had remained but a few hours, and had then started back toward Deering. I immediately returned to Deering, but you had not reappeared there. It was then that a fear of foul play flashed upon me; it was then and then only that I began to fear for your safety. There had been a mysterious murder committed in Deering Woods, and the murderer was committed for trial----"

"My God!" I cried.

Strange as it may appear, I had not until this moment thought of the murder which had been perpetrated in the woods. Heaven knows it was not from indifference that this lapse of memory had occurred to me, and I can only ascribe my forgetfulness to the intensity of my misery for several days past, during which I had been completely and entirely engrossed in the frightful sufferings I had endured. But now Bob's reference to the foul deed brought Gerald Paget's peril to my mind. I was so terribly excited that Bob caught hold of me in alarm, for I had started from my couch and was swaying to and fro on my feet.

"In Heaven's name," exclaimed Bob, "what is the matter with you?"

"Do not ask questions," I said, speaking with feverish haste, "but answer mine, and follow any instructions I may give you. The murderer is committed for trial, you say. Has the trial taken place?"

"It is taking place now," replied Bob, speaking as rapidly as I did; the contagion of my excitement had seized him. "The Assizes are on."

"What is the time?"

"Five minutes past four."

"When did the trial commence?"

"This morning, I heard."

"Is it over?"

"I do not know."

"Will it take you long to ascertain how it is proceeding?"

"I might do it in half an hour."

"Do it, in less time if you can, I am not mad, Bob; I am as sane as you are. This is a matter of life and death, and, God forgive me, I have allowed it to escape me. One more question. You have not spoken of Dr. Peterssen. Where is he?"

"In prison, under arrest."

"That is good new............