“Because some busybody has been telling my father that the way I live in my bachelor flat is not _comme il faut_, if you please, and so he thinks--or says he thinks--that I may end by bringing the family name into disrepute. Just think of that! Now, if you ask me, I will tell you what I believe the true reason is. On my twenty-fifth birthday I come into some money from a defunct aunt, my father’s only sister--quite a nice little sum safely invested--and I am pretty sure my stepmother hopes to induce me to make over a portion of the nest egg to her, or to my father. You have no idea how amiable she was, and my father too. Couldn’t make enough of me or do too much for me. The money comes to me in five months’ time.” “But didn’t they know before that you would inherit it?” “Apparently not. I knew nothing about it myself until a few weeks ago, and I purposely didn’t tell you then because the lawyer who wrote to me--he is a friend of mine--asked me to say nothing about it just yet. He told me about it more or less in confidence--said he thought I might like to know.” “So you are not going back to Cumberland?” “My darling Cora, what a question!” “Oh, I am glad!” Hartsilver exclaimed. “I don’t know how I should live if you went away. You are the only friend I have; you are, really. Tell me, did your father or mother--I beg your pardon ‘stepmother’--say anything about Stephen Lethbridge? You have read about the tragedy, of course.” “Indeed I have, and I at once thought of you. Yes, they were full of it last night. My father said he saw Stephen less than ten days ago, and was struck by the change that had come over him.” “How--‘change’?” “He said he looked years older than when he saw him a month ago, and he mentioned the fact to my stepmother at the time. Then he said that strange-looking people had been staying at Abbey Hall lately.” “Men or women?” “Men. There were rumors, too, my father said, that Stephen had become financially embarrassed.” “Really? But he was so well off, or supposed to be.” “I know. That adds to the mystery. I suppose there was a woman, or women, in the case. I see in to-day’s paper that an inquest will be held.” Cora did not answer. She was staring out of the window towards Regent’s Park--the house was in Park Crescent--with troubled eyes, as though her thoughts were miles away. “Don’t fret, Cora,” her friend said at last. “I know you were fond of him, and that he was fond of you, but----” “Oh, don’t, don’t speak like that,” Mrs. Hartsilver exclaimed hastily, pressing her fingers to her eyes. “It is all too terrible, I can’t bear to think of it; and yet I can’t help thinking about it and wondering--wondering----” Yootha Hagerston encircled her friend with her arm, and kissed her warmly. “I know--I know,” she said in a tone of deep sympathy. “No, we won’t talk about it. Did Henry refer to it at all?” “Henry!” The tone betrayed utter contempt, almost hatred.