That same evening I had an opportunity of asking her. Mr. Chandos went to the west wing after dinner, I sat near the lights, working at my bag, when Mrs. Penn came into the oak-parlour, not having troubled herself to knock for admittance. "It's fine to be you, Anne Hereford," she said, putting herself into Mr. Chandos's chair by the fire. "I wish I had this room to sit in." "Are the rooms upstairs not comfortable?" "I don't know about comfort: they are wretchedly dull. I'd as soon be cooped up in a prison. Not a soul to speak to from morning to night, but Mrs. Chandos. Here you have Mr. Chandos; full state and ceremony; and the chance of seeing all the visitors." "All the visitors consist of a doctor now and then, and Mr. Dexter once a week, or so," I said, laughing. "A doctor and an agent are better than nobody. I suppose," she added, after a pause, "they are all assembled in party conclave in the west wing; Mr. Chandos, Mrs. Chandos, and my lady." "I wish Lady Chandos was better," I remarked. Mrs. Penn turned round eagerly, her eye lighting with excitement. "I _wish_ I knew what it is that's the matter with her! I wish I knew! Do you never gather a hint of it from Mr. Chandos?" "Never. But why should you be so desirous to learn? What is it to you, Mrs. Penn?" "I have my reasons," she replied, nodding her head. "I won't tell them to you this evening, but I have not made a vow that I never will. If she is insane, as I suspect, why then—but I'll say no more now. What a strange thing it is about that letter!" "Very. You are suspecting some one in particular?" "Well?" she answered, sharply, turning her face to me. "Is it Lizzy Dene?" "Who it is, or who it is not, is nothing to you," she rejoined, in the crossest tone I ever heard. "I know this: I would give the worth of a dozen letters ten times over to bring the mystery to light. They may be suspecting you and me next." "Mrs. Penn!" "Yes, Mrs. Penn!" she retorted, in a mocking tone. "We are the only strangers in the house, Anne Hereford." As if my words had angered her past redemption, she quitted the room abruptly. Very soon Mr. Chandos returned to it, and the tea came in. He began talking of the lost letter—of the unpleasantness altogether. Should I tell him of my doubt? The old proverb runs, that if a woman deliberates she is lost: it proved so in my case, and I mentioned Lizzy Dene. "Lizzy Dene!" repeated Mr. Chandos, in great surprise. "_Lizzy Dene!_" "But indeed it is a doubt more than a suspicion; and it arises chiefly from my having found her in my room that night," I eagerly added, feeling half afraid of what I had done, and determined not to hint at her supposed alliance with Mr. Edwin Barley. "Rely upon it, you are wrong, Anne," Mr. Chandos decided, without any pause. "Lizzy Dene would be the very last woman to act in a treacherous manner to our family. She may be foolishly superstitious, but she is honest as the day. I'll answer for _her_."