"Taken seven years ago," she said.
Monteith looked at the dark, handsome face of the portrait with a vague expression of sadness in his eyes, and handed it to Foster with a sigh:--
"It is Lionel Ventin."
"Ah!" said Foster, with a long breath, as he looked at it, "I thought as much."
"What do you mean by calling my brother Lionel Ventin?" asked Mrs. Taunton quickly, clasping her hands; "that is--that is the name of the man that was--that was--murdered!" The last word came out almost in a shriek as she sprang to her feet.
Monteith nodded sadly.
"Yes," he replied, gravely, "Leopold Verschoyle and Lionel Ventin are the same."
"Then he--my brother is the man who was murdered on board the Neptune?" she asked, in a whisper.
Foster arose in alarm.
"Let me get you some water," he said, advancing towards her, but she waved him back.