"Pray, did you ever see at her house, or hear her speak of, a Mrs. Bertram?"
"Of whom?" said Egerton, in a hollow voice, his face still turned toward the fire.
"A Mrs. Bertram; but Heavens! my dear fellow, what is the matter? Are you ill?"
"A spasm at the heart—that is all—don't ring—I shall be better presently—go on talking. Mrs.——; why do you ask?"
"Why? I have hardly time to explain; but I am, as I told you, resolved on righting my old Italian friend, if Heaven will help me, as it ever does help the just when they bestir themselves; and this Mrs. Bertram is mixed up in my friend's affairs."
"His! How is that possible?"
Harley rapidly and succinctly explained. Audley listened attentively, with his eyes fixed on the floor, and still seeming to labor under great difficulty of breathing.
At last he answered, "I remember something of this Mrs.—Mrs.—Bertram. But your inquiries after her would be useless. I think I have heard that she is long since dead; nay, I am sure of it."
"Dead!—that is most unfortunate. But do you know any of her relations or friends? Can you suggest any mode of tracing this packet, if it came to her hands?"
"No."