had taken from the neck of my dead wife, and thrusting my hand into my pocket, was gratified to find it still there, together with a pair of white gloves that the Tempter had given me. 

I took it out and carefully examined it.  The chain was a very fine but strong one, and the curious little charm of plain gold on that side that would lay against the skin, was beautifully set with diamonds which now sparkled and flashed with a thousand fires in the brilliant sunset.  About an inch and a half long, it was of most delicate workmanship.  I had seen in jewellers' windows in Bond Street and Regent Street many articles of jewellery--brooches, breast-pins, and the like--in the form of a note of interrogation, but never one made in this manner.  It was different to all the others, a costly ornament without doubt, for all the stones were well matched, and, as far as I could judge, not being an expert, of the first water. 

What was its significance, I wondered, as it lay in the palm of my hand. It was a souvenir of her--a souvenir of the woman who was my legal wife, and who had fallen a victim beneath the cruel hand of an assassin. 

The crumpled scrap of paper I had also secured I brought from my pocket and likewise examined.  The words upon it were in a man's hand without a doubt--an educated hand which, by its angularity and the formation of the letters might possibly have been acquired on the Continent. 

"I have seen La Gioia!" 

The words conveyed some distinct message or warning which I could not determine.  One fact was, however, plain; if I could discover this mysterious "La Gioia," be she a woman or an object, I might perhaps ascertain the true meaning of the words, the reason they were penned, and the motive Beryl had in thus treasuring them beneath her pillow. 

A desire possessed me to escape from that narrow place wherein the air was stifling.  The porthole was screwed down so tightly that I could not move it without a wrench, and the place seemed hermetically sealed. 

By the terrible racket of the machinery and the strong smell of tar and oil I felt certain that it was no passenger steamer by which I was travelling.  Everywhere were traces of black dust.  I dipped my finger in some of it, examining it closely; it was coal dust.  The ship was a collier. 

I rose again, and taking up a stout piece of wood lying on the floor, battered heavily at the door, demanding 

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