rd from your housemaid the
most dreadful things. Why, Mr. Vrain remonstrated with Lydia, and
ordered Count Ferruci out of the house, but Lydia would not let him go;
and Mr. Vrain left the house himself."

"Where did he go to, Miss Tyler?"

"I don't know; nobody knows. But it is my opinion," said the spinster,
with a significant look, "that he went to London to see about a divorce.
But he was weak in the head, poor man, and I suppose let things go on.
When next I heard of him he was a corpse in Geneva Square."

"But did my father tell his wife that he was in Geneva Square?"

"Dearest Di, I can't say; but I don't believe he had anything to do with
her after he left the house."

"Then if she did not know his whereabouts, how could she kill him?"
asked Denzil pertinently.

Brought to a point which she could not evade, Bella declined to answer
this question, but tossed her head and bit her lip, with a fine colour.
All her accusations of Mrs. Vrain had been made generally, and, as
Lucian noted, were unsupported by fact. From a legal point of view this
spiteful gossip of a jealous woman was worth nothing, but in a broad
sense it was certainly useful in showing the discord which had existed
between Vrain and his wife. Lucian saw that little good was to be gained
from this prejudiced witness, so thanking Miss Tyler courteously for her
information, he arose to go.

"Wait for a moment, Mr. Denzil," said Diana hurriedly. "I want to ask
you something. Bella, would you mind----"

"Leaving the room? Oh, dear, no!" burst out Miss Tyler, annoyed at being
excluded. "I've said all I have to say, and anything I can do, dearest
Di, to assist you and Mr. Denzil in hanging that woman, I----"

"Miss Tyler," interrupted Lucian sternly, "you must not speak so
wildly, for as yet there is nothing to prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty."

"She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but like all men, I suppose
you take her side, because she is supposed to be pretty. Pretty!"
reflected Bella scornfully, "I never could see it myself; a painted up
minx, dragged up from the gutter. I wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil,
indeed I do. Pretty, the idea! What fools men are! I'm glad I never
married one! Indeed no! He! he!"

And with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape sentiment, and mark her
disdain for Lucian, the fair Bella took herself and her lean form out of
the room.

Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested in their business to
ta