panion. He appeared to be in a dream. I suspected that there was something strange about this, Madame," said Mr. Price, safely, "but I did not see on what ground I could interfere. The gentleman who met your—your—husband?—arrived from England about three days ago. He brought a big black trunk, labelled conspicuously "J. D.," while he registered under the name of Frank Clarke. A leather pocket-book was found in the hotel the other day. It contained a large sum of money. Mr. Clarke claimed it, and declared that it belonged to him, although the name on the cards which were in it was—"
"What?" I asked breathlessly, although I knew full well.
Mr. Price drew a slip of paper from his pocket.
"The name was Jack Dillington," he said.
"Captain Jack Dillington. I was very suspicious when he claimed this pocket-book. He was able to tell me exactly its contents. He explained that the cards belonged to a friend, and I had to believe him."
"Although you saw his trunk marked 'J. D?'" I asked impatiently.
