…　〃You　went　to　meet　some　one；〃　I　cried；　〃this　is　your　mystery。〃
  She　grew　dreadfully　white；　and　said；　〃I　went　to　meet　no　one。〃　…
  〃Can't　you　tell　the　truth？〃　I　exclaimed。　　〃I　have　told　it；〃　she
  replied。　　I　was　mad；　frantic；　I　don't　know　what　I　said；　but　I　said
  terrible　things　to　her。　　Finally　I　rushed　out　of　the　house。　　She
  wrote　me　a　letter　the　next　day；　I　sent　it　back　unopened；　and
  started　for　Norway　with　Alan　Colville。　　After　a　month　I　came　back；
  and　the　first　thing　I　saw　in　the　MORNING　POST　was　the　death　of　Lady
  Alroy。　　She　had　caught　a　chill　at　the　Opera；　and　had　died　in　five
  days　of　congestion　of　the　lungs。　　I　shut　myself　up　and　saw　no　one。
  I　had　loved　her　so　much；　I　had　loved　her　so　madly。　　Good　God！　how　I
  had　loved　that　woman！'
  'You　went　to　the　street；　to　the　house　in　it？'　I　said。
  'Yes；'　he　answered。
  'One　day　I　went　to　Cumnor　Street。　　I　could　not　help　it；　I　was
  tortured　with　doubt。　　I　knocked　at　the　door；　and　a　respectable…
  looking　woman　opened　it　to　me。　　I　asked　her　if　she　had　any　rooms　to
  let。　　〃Well；　sir；〃　she　replied；　〃the　drawing…rooms　are　supposed　to
  be　let；　but　I　have　not　seen　the　lady　for　three　months；　and　as　rent
  is　owing　on　them；　you　can　have　them。〃　…　〃Is　this　the　lady？〃　I　said；
  showing　the　photograph。　　〃That's　her；　sure　enough；〃　she　exclaimed；
  〃and　when　is　she　coming　back；　sir？〃　…　〃The　lady　is　dead；〃　I
  replied。　　〃Oh　sir；　I　hope　not！〃　said　the　woman；　〃she　was　my　best
  lodger。　　She　paid　me　three　guineas　a　week　merely　to　sit　in　my
  drawing…rooms　now　and　then。〃　　〃She　met　some　one　here？〃　I　said；　but
  the　woman　assured　me　that　it　was　not　so；　that　she　always　came
  alone；　and　saw　no　one。　　〃What　on　earth　did　she　do　here？〃　I　cried。
  〃She　simply　sat　in　the　drawing…room；　sir；　reading　books；　and
  sometimes　had　tea；〃　the　woman　answered。　　I　did　not　know　what　to
  say；　so　I　gave　her　a　sovereign　and　went　away。　　Now；　what　do　you
  think　it　all　meant？　　You　don't　believe　the　woman　was　telling　the
  truth？'
  'I　do。'
  'Then　why　did　Lady　Alroy　go　there？'
  'My　dear　Gerald；'　I　answered；　'Lady　Alroy　was　simply　a　woman　with　a
  mania　for　mystery。　　She　took　these　rooms　for　the　pleasure　of　going
  there　with　her　veil　down；　and　imagining　she　was　a　heroine。　　She　had
  a　passion　for　secrecy；　but　she　herself　was　merely　a　Sphinx　without
  a　secret。'
  'Do　you　really　think　so？'
  'I　am　sure　of　it；'　I　replied。
  He　took　out　the　morocco　case；　opened　it；　and　looked　at　the
  photograph。　　'I　wonder？'　he　said　at　last。