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"Brother," cried Lady Trafford, her eye blazing with unnatural light, and her cheek suffused with a crimson stain: "Brother," she cried, lifting her thin fingers towards Heaven, "as God shall judge me, I was wedded to that murdered man!" "A lie!" ejaculated Sir Rowland, furiously; "a black, and damning lie!" "It is the truth," replied his sister, falling backwards upon the couch. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. "Your detective has been remiss in his duty; let him suffer for it. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough.
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