I hurried out of the apartment, and met the triumphant claimants.  I explained the cause of the delay, and suggested that Mrs. Thorneycroft and her friends could amuse themselves in the garden whilst the solicitor and I ran over the inventory of the chief valuables to be surrendered together.

This was agreed to.  A minute or two before the conclusion of this necessary formality, I received a message from the ladies, expressive of a wish to be gone at once, if I would escort them to the hotel; and Martin, who was nowhere to be found, could follow.  I hastened to comply with their wishes; and we were just about to issue from the front drawing-room, into which we had passed through the folding-doors, when we were confronted by the widow and her party, who had just reached the landing of the great staircase.  We drew back in silence.  The mutual confusion into which we were thrown caused a momentary hesitation only, and we were passing on when the butler suddenly appeared.

“A gentleman,” he said, “an officer, is at the door, who wishes to see a Miss Maria Emsbury, formerly of Swindon.”

I stared at the man, discerned a strange expression in his face, and it glanced across me at the same moment that I had heard no knock at the door.

“See Miss Emsbury!” exclaimed the Widow Thorneycroft, recovering her speech—­“there is no such person here!”

“Pardon me, madam,” I cried, catching eagerly at the interruption, as a drowning man is said to do at a straw—­“this young person was at least Miss Emsbury.  Desire the officer to walk up.”  The butler vanished instantly, and we all huddled back disorderly into the drawing-room, some one closing the door after us.  I felt the grasp of Mrs. Allerton’s arm tighten convulsively round mine, and her breath I heard, came quick and short.  I was hardly less agitated myself.

Steps—­slow and deliberate steps—­were presently heard ascending the stairs, the door opened, and in walked a gentleman in the uniform of a yeomanry officer, whom at the first glance I could have sworn to be the deceased Mr. Henry Allerton.  A slight exclamation of terror escaped Mrs. Allerton, followed by a loud hysterical scream from the Swindon young woman, as she staggered forward towards the stranger, exclaiming, “Oh, merciful God!—­my husband!” and then fell, overcome with emotion, in his outstretched arms.

“Yes,” said the Rev. Mr. Wishart promptly, “that is certainly the gentleman I united to Maria Emsbury.  What can be the meaning of this scene?”

“Is that sufficient, Mr. Sharp?” exclaimed the officer, in a voice that removed all doubt.

“Quite, quite,” I shouted—­“more than enough!”

“Very well, then,” said William Martin, dashing off his black curling wig, removing his whiskers of the same color, and giving his own light, but now cropped head of hair and clean-shaved cheeks to view.  “Now, then, send for the police, and let them transport me—­I richly merit it.  I married this young woman in a false name; I robbed her of her money, and I deserve the hulks, if anybody ever did.”