CHAPTER XV.
A SECOND FRAUD.
Roland Sefton went back to the room in which the corpse of the stranger was now lying.

The women were gone, and he turned down the sheet to look at the face of the man who was about to bear his name and the disgrace of his crime into the safe asylum of the grave.

It was perfectly calm, with no trace of the night's suffering upon it; there was even a faint vestige of a smile about the mouth, as of one who sleeps well, and has pleasant dreams.

He was apparently about Roland's own age, and a description given by strangers would not be such as would lead to any suspicion that there could have been a mistake as to identity.

Roland looked long upon it before covering it up again, and then he sat down beside the bed and opened the pocket-book.
There were notes in it worth fifty pounds, but not many papers.