member your story at the inquest. You will forgive
me if, in company, I believe, with the majority who heard it, I find it
a trifle improbable."

I looked at her gravely. This was the woman with whom I had once
believed myself in love, the woman who had jilted me to marry a man of
whom even his friends found it hard to speak well.

"Lady Delahaye," I said, "my story may have sounded strangely, but it
was true. I presume that you did not come here solely with the purpose
of expressing your amiable opinion of my veracity?"

"You are quite right," she admitted drily. "I did not."

She was silent for a few moments. Her eyes were fixed upon Isobel, and I
did not like their expression.

"May I offer you a chair, Lady Delahaye?" I asked.

"Thank you, I prefer to stand--here," she answered. "This, I believe, is
the young person who was with my husband?"

She extended a sombrely gloved forefinger towards Isobel, who met her
gaze unflinchingly.

"That is the young lady," I answered. "Have you anything to say to her?"

"My errand here is with her," Lady Delahaye declared. "What is it that
you call yourself, girl?"

Isobel was a little bewildered. She seemed scarcely able to appreciate
Lady Delahaye's attitude.

"My name," she said, "is Isobel de Sorrens."

"You asserted at the inquest," Lady Delahaye continued, "that my husband
was your guardian. What did you mean by such an extraordinary
statement?"

Isobel seemed suddenly to grasp the situation. Her finely arched
eyebrows were raised, her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. She rose
slowly to her feet, and, child though she was, the dignity of her
demeanour was such that Lady Delahaye with her accusing forefinger
seemed to shrink into insignificance.

"I think," she said, "that you are a very rude person. Major Delahaye
took me to the convent of St. Argueil when I was four years old, and
left me there. He visited me twelve months ago, and brought me to
England you know when. I was with him for less than twenty-four hours,
and I was very unhappy indeed all the time. I did not understand the
things which he said to me, nor did I like him at all. I think that if
he had left me out of his sight for a moment I should have run away."

Lady Delahaye was very pale, and her eyes were full of unpleasant
things. I found myself looking at her, and marvelling at the folly which
I had long since forgotten.

"You perhaps complained of him--to his murderer! It is you, no d