Hannah Martin had never been much of a traveller. It was years since she set her foot inside a railway carriage. She often boasted of her abnormal lack of nerves, but she was also heard to say that accidents by rail were fearful and common, and likely to happen at any moment. She sighed for the old coaching days, and hated the thought of all locomotives propelled by steam. Nevertheless, early in the morning of the day following her interview with Primrose, Hannah, in her usual neat print dress, was seen to enter the little railway station at Rosebury, was observed to purchase for herself a third-class return ticket, and after carefully selecting her carriage, to depart for London.

In the afternoon of that same day Hannah reached her destination, and securing the first porter whose attention she could arrest, she placed a bit of paper in his hand, and asked him to direct her to the address written upon it. The man screwed up his eyes, stared at the paper, and suggested that Hannah should place herself in a hansom, and direct the driver to take her to Park Lane. Hannah had not an idea what a hansom meant; she had never visited London since her early days. She stared with horror at the proposed vehicle, and finally selecting the creakiest and most uninviting of the four-wheelers, drove off to her destination.

Mrs. Ellsworthy was enjoying some very fragrant tea in her little boudoir when a servant announced that a person of the name of Martin had come up from the country in a four-wheeler, and would be glad to see her as soon as possible.

"What kind of person, Henry?" asked the little lady. "I am very tired just now, and I must go out to dinner in less than two hours. A person from the country in a four-wheeler? What can she want with me?"

"She seems a respectable sort of body, ma'am," answered the footman, "but nervous and shaky, and mortal afraid to step out of the cab; the cabby and me we had both to lend her a hand in alighting, ma'am. She's sitting now in a chair in the hall, and I can see she's upset with her journey, but respectable; there's no word for the neatness of her person, ma'am."

"She is probably poor, and wants me to help her," replied Mrs. Ellsworthy. "I hate seeing beggars, for I find it absolutely impossible to say no to them. Show her up, Henry, and give her a hint that I'm going out to dinner, and can only spare her a very few moments."

Hannah could not certainly be accused when she entered Mrs. Ellsworthy's room, of any want of nerves. Her hands were shaking, her lips were tremulous, and her face, as she entered the room, became perfectly white.

"You'll excuse me, ma'am," she said. "I'm most sorry to trouble you, but I'm that anxious, I scarce know what I'm doing. I undertook a railway journey—which I don't think right—and I came here through most crowded streets in a dreadful vehicle, for I just wanted to ask you a single question, ma'am."

"Sit down, my poor woman," said Mrs. Ellsworthy, who, the moment she looked at Hannah, began to have a dim sort of idea that she had seen her before, and also became full of pity for her. "Sit down. How you tremble! I am sorry to see you are so nervous."

"Nervous, ma'am!" echoed Hannah. "That I should hear that said of me! No, ma'am, it ain't nervous I am, but I'm rather worried with the tremblings during the last few hours. I've come to ask you a plain question, ma'am, plain and direct. It's about the young man Mr. Noel. Have he, ma'am, or have he not, a mole on his left arm? I'd like yes or no, ma'am."

"A mole on his left arm!" echoed Mrs............