a jewel-case, to terrify Mademoiselle de Tourville, by the threat of a criminal charge, into leaving the country, or at least to bind herself not to admit, under any circumstances, of Mr. Arthur Rushton’s addresses.  She found Eugenie in a state of extraordinary, and it seemed painful excitement; and the young lady entreated that whatever Mrs. Rushton had to say should be reserved for another opportunity, when she would calmly consider whatever Mrs. Rushton had to urge.  The unfortunate lady became somewhat irritated at Mademoiselle de Tourville’s obstinacy, and the unruffled contempt with which she treated the charge of robbery, even after finding the missing jewel-case in a band-box, into which it had been thrust with some brushes and other articles in the hurry of leaving.  Mrs. Rushton was iterating her threats in a loud tone of voice, and moved towards the bell to direct, she said, the landlord to send for a constable, but with no intention whatever of doing so, when Mademoiselle de Tourville caught her suddenly by the arm, and bade her step into the next room.  Mrs. Rushton mechanically obeyed, and was led in silence to the side of a bed, of which Eugenie suddenly drew the curtain, and displayed to her, with a significant and reproachful gesture, the pale, rigid countenance of her father’s corpse, who had, it appears, suddenly expired.  The shock was terrible.  Mrs. Rushton staggered back into the sitting-room, sick and faint, sank into a chair, and presently asked for a glass of wine.  “We have no wine,” replied Mademoiselle de Tourville; “but there is a cordial in the next room which may be better for you.”  She was absent about a minute, and on returning, presented Mrs. Rushton with a large wine-glassful of liquid, which the deceased lady eagerly swallowed.  The taste was strange, but not unpleasant; and instantly afterwards Mrs. Rushton left the house.  When the carriage reached Harley Street, she was found to be in a state of great prostration:  powerful stimulants were administered, but her life was beyond the reach of medicine.  She survived just long enough to depose to the foregoing particulars; upon which statement Mademoiselle de Tourville had been arrested, and was now in custody.

“You seem to have been very precipitate,” I exclaimed as soon as the solicitor had ceased speaking:  “there appears to be as yet no proof that the deceased lady died of other than natural causes.”

“You are mistaken,” rejoined Mr. Twyte.  “There is no doubt on the subject in the minds of the medical gentlemen, although the post-mortem examination has not yet taken place.  And, as if to put aside all doubt, the bottle from which this Eugenie de Tourville admits she took the cordial proves to contain distilled laurel-water, a deadly poison, curiously colored and flavored.”