ver saw him that time he was in town.
But if you think he killed Mark you are wrong. I do not believe Ercole
would kill a fly, for all he's an Italian."

"Do you think he took that stiletto?"

"No, I don't!"

"Then who did?"

"I don't know. I don't even know when it was taken. I missed it after
Christmas, because that old schoolma'am told me it was gone."

"Old schoolma'am!"

"Well, Bella Tyler, if you like that better," retorted Mrs. Vrain.
"Come, now, Mr. Denzil, I'm not going to let you go away without proving
my--what do you call it?--alibi. Come with me right along to Camden
Hill."

"I'll come just to satisfy myself," said Lucian, picking up the cloak,
"but I am beginning to feel that it is unnecessary."

"You think I am innocent? Well," drawled Lydia, as Lucian nodded, "I
think that's real sweet of you. I mayn't be a saint, but I'm not quite
the sinner that Diana of yours makes me out."

"Diana of mine, Mrs. Vrain?" said Lucian, colouring.

The little woman laughed at his blush.

"Oh, I'm not a fool, young man. I see how the wind blows!" And with a
nod she vanished.

CHAPTER XVIII

WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK?

Mrs. Vrain sacrificed the vanity of a lengthy toilette to a natural
anxiety to set herself right with Lucian, and appeared shortly in a
ravishing costume fresh from Paris. Perhaps by arraying herself so
smartly she wished to assure Denzil more particularly that she was a
lady of too much taste to buy rabbit-skin cloaks in Bayswater: or
perhaps--which was more probable--she was not averse to ensnaring so
handsome a young man into an innocent flirtation.

The suspicion she entertained of Lucian's love for Diana only made Lydia
the more eager to fascinate him on her own account. A conceit of
herself, a hatred of her stepdaughter, and a desire to wring admiration
out of a man who did not wish to bestow it. These were the reasons which
led Mrs. Vrain to be particularly agreeable to the barrister. When the
pair were ensconced in a swift hansom, and rolling rapidly towards
Camden Hill, she began at once to prosecute her amiable designs.

"I guess you'll not mind being my best boy for the day," she said, with
a coquettish glance. "You can escort me, first of all, to the Pegalls,
and afterwards we can drive to Baxter & Co.'s in Bayswater, so that you
can assure yourself I didn't buy that cloak."

"I am much obliged for the trouble you are taking, Mrs. Vrain," replied
the young man, avoiding w