'Norah,' said Mr Openshaw, in his kindest voice, 'the brooch is found.
It was hanging to Mrs Chadwick's gown. I beg your pardon. Most truly
I beg your pardon, for having troubled you about it. My wife is almost
broken-hearted. Eat, Norah--or, stay, first drink this glass of wine,'
said he, lifting her head, and pouring a little down her throat.

As she drank, she remembered where she was, and who she was waiting
for. She suddenly pushed Mr Openshaw away, saying, 'Oh, sir, you must
go. You must not stop a minute. If he comes back, he will kill you.'

'Alas, Norah! I do not know who "he" is. But someone is gone away who
will never come back: someone who knew you, and whom I am afraid you
cared for.'

'I don't understand you, sir,' said Norah, her master's kind and
sorrowful manner bewildering her yet more than his words. The
policeman had left the room at Mr Openshaw's desire, and they two were
alone.

'You know what I mean, when I say someone is gone who will never come
back. I mean that he is dead!'

'Who?' said Norah, trembling all over.

'A poor man has been found in the Thames this morning--drowned.'

'Did he drown himself?' asked Norah, solemnly.

'God only knows,' replied Mr Openshaw, in the same tone. 'Your name
and address at our house were found in his pocket; that, and his