“In what manner?”

“He would not tell me; he would only say that she had destroyed him, body and soul.  The man is dead now.”

“And what has become of his wife?”

“Ah, that’s what I should like to know, and I mean to find her sooner or later.  I know a man named Clarke, a dry fellow, in fact a man of business, but shrewd enough.  You understand my meaning; not shrewd in the mere business sense of the word, but a man who really knows something about men and life.  Well, I laid the case before him, and he was evidently impressed.  He said it needed consideration, and asked me to come again in the course of a week.  A few days later I received this extraordinary letter.”

Austin took the envelope, drew out the letter, and read it curiously.  It ran as follows:—­

“My dear Villiers,—­I have thought over the matter on which you consulted me the other night, and my advice to you is this.  Throw the portrait into the fire, blot out the story from your mind.  Never give it another thought, Villiers, or you will be sorry.  You will think, no doubt, that I am in possession of some secret information, and to a certain extent that is the case.  But I only know a little; I am like a traveller who has peered over an abyss, and has drawn back in terror.  What I know is strange enough and horrible enough, but beyond my knowledge there are depths and horrors more frightful still, more incredible than any tale told of winter nights about the fire.  I have resolved, and nothing shall shake that resolve, to explore no whit farther, and if you value your happiness you will make the same determination.

“Come and see me by all means; but we will talk on more cheerful topics than this.”

Austin folded the letter methodically, and returned it to Villiers.

“It is certainly an extraordinary letter,” he said, “what does he mean by the portrait?”

“Ah!  I forgot to tell you I have been to Paul Street and have made a discovery.”

Villiers told his story as he had told it to Clarke, and Austin listened in silence.  He seemed puzzled.

“How very curious that you should experience such an unpleasant sensation in that room!” he said at length.  “I hardly gather that it was a mere matter of the imagination; a feeling of repulsion, in short.”

“No, it was more physical than mental.  It was as if I were inhaling at every breath some deadly fume, which seemed to penetrate to every nerve and bone and sinew of my body.  I felt racked from head to foot, my eyes began to grow dim; it was like the entrance of death.”

“Yes, yes, very strange certainly.  You see, your friend confesses that there is some very black story connected with this woman.  Did you notice any particular emotion in him when you were telling your tale?”

“Yes, I did.  He became very faint, but he assured me that it was a mere passing attack to which he was subject.”