Benjamin got off his box and began to search.  Barbara waited, gazing listlessly down the street.  The sun was shining brilliantly, and its rays fell upon the large cable chain of a gentleman who was sauntering idly up the pavement, making its gold links and its drooping seal and key glitter, as they crossed his waistcoat.  It shone also upon the enameled gold studs of his shirt front, making them glitter; and as he suddenly raised his ungloved hand to stroke his moustache—­by which action you know a vain man—­a diamond ring he wore gleamed with a light that was positively dazzling.  Involuntarily Barbara thought of the description her brother Richard had given of certain dazzling jewels worn by another.

She watched him advance!  He was a handsome man of, perhaps, seven or eight and twenty, tall, slender and well made, his eyes and hair black.  A very pleasant expression sat upon his countenance; and on the left hand he wore a light buff kid glove, and was swinging its fellow by the fingers.  But for the light cast at that moment by the sun, Barbara might not have noticed the jewellery, or connected it in her mind with the other jewellery in that unhappy secret.

“Hallo, Thorn, is that you?  Just step over here.”

The speaker was Otway Bethel, who was on the opposite side of the street; the spoken to, the gentleman with the jewellery.  But the latter was in a brown study, and did not hear.  Bethel called out again, louder.

“Captain Thorn!”

That was heard.  Captain Thorn nodded, and turned short off across the street.  Barbara stood like one in a dream, her brain, her mind, her fancy all in a confused mass together.

“Here’s the bag, Miss Barbara.  It had got among the folds of the rug.”

Benjamin held it out to her, but she took no notice; she was unconscious of all external things save one.  That she beheld the real murderer of Hallijohn, she entertained no manner of doubt.  In every particular he tallied with the description given by Richard; tall, dark, vain, handsome, delicate hands, jewellery, and—­Captain Thorn!  Barbara’s cheeks grew white and her heart turned sick.

“The bag, Miss Barbara.”

Away tore Barbara, leaving Benjamin and the bag in wonder.  She had caught sight of Mr. Wainwright, the surgeon, at a little distance, and sped toward him.

“Mr. Wainwright,” began she, forgetting ceremony in her agitation, “you see that gentleman talking to Otway Bethel—­who is he?”

Mr. Wainwright had to put his glasses across the bridge of his nose before he could answer, for he was short-sighted.  “That?  Oh, it is a Captain Thorn.  He is visiting the Herberts, I believe.”

“Where does he come from?  Where does he live?” reiterated Barbara in her eagerness.

“I don’t know anything about him.  I saw him this morning with young Smith, and he told me he was a friend of the Herberts.  You are not looking well, Miss Barbara.”