have done. And now, will you please leave me with Jenny
Prask?"

The smile was very easy to read now in Jenny's face. She could ask
nothing better than to be left alone with Joan.

Martin hesitated.

"I think, Joan, that you ought to see Lady Splay before you talk to any
one," he counselled gently.

"Is everybody going to give me orders in this house?" Joan retorted with
a quiet, dangerous calm.

Martin Hillyard turned and ran swiftly up the stairs. There was but one
thing to do. Lady Splay must be fetched down. But hurry as he might, he
was not in time. For a few seconds Joan and Jenny Prask were alone in
the hall, and all Jenny's composure left her on the instant. She stepped
quickly over to Joan, and in a voice vibrating with hatred and passion,
she hissed:

"But you'll have to say why you came back. You'll have to say who you
came back to see. You'll have to say it publicly too--right there in
court. It'll be in all the papers. Won't you like it, Miss Whitworth?
Just fancy!"

Joan was staggered by the attack. The sheer hatred of Jenny bewildered
her.

"In court?" she faltered. "What do you mean?"

"That Mrs. Croyle died of poison last night in her room," answered
Jenny.

Joan stared at her. "Last night, after we had talked--she killed
herself--oh!" The truth reached her brain and laid a chill hand upon her
heart. She rocked backwards and forwards as she stood, and with a
gasping moan fell headlong to the ground. She had fainted. For a little
while Jenny surveyed her handiwork with triumph. She bent down with a
laugh.

"Yes, it's your turn, you pretty doll. You've got to go through it! You
won't look so young and pretty when they have done with you in the
witness-box. Bah!"

Jenny Prask was a strenuous hater. She drew back her foot to kick the
unconscious girl as she lay at her feet upon the floor. But that insult
Millie Splay was in time to prevent.

"Jenny," she cried sharply from the balustrade of the landing.

Jenny was once more the quiet, respectful maid.

"Yes, my lady. You want me? I am afraid that Miss Whitworth has
fainted."

CHAPTER XXX

A REVOLUTION IN SIR CHICHESTER

Upon that house which had yesterday rung with joyous life now fell gloom
and sorrow and grave disquiet. Millie Splay drew Miranda, Dennis Brown
and Harold Jupp aside.

"You three had better go," she said. "You have such a little time for
holidays now; and I can always telegraph for you if you should be
wa