"You know perfectly what I mean--if you were a _man_ he would horsewhip you; you have done nothing but insult me ever since you entered this house." "Thank you; it's quite plain. I shan't forget it. I'll ask him, when he comes, whether he's in the habit of beating women. It is not usual, I believe, among British officers. It _usen't_ at least; but everything's getting on--young ladies, and, I suppose, old men--all getting on famously." "Give me my key, if you please; and cease talking like a fool," cried Lady Jane. "And what _do_ you want of that key? Come, now, young lady, what is it?" "I don't choose to have my door lie open, and I won't. I've no bolt to the inside, and I _will_ have my key, madam." "If that's your object, set your mind at ease. I'll lock your door myself when you have got to your bed." "So that if the house takes fire I shall be burnt to death!" "Pooh! nonsense!" "And if I am they'll hang _you_, I hope." "Thank you. Flogged and hanged!" And Lady Alice laughed an exceeding bitter laugh. "But the wicked violence of your language and _menaces_ shan't deter me from the duty I've prescribed to myself. I'll define my reasons if you like, and I'll write as soon as you please to General Lennox." "I think you're _mad_--I do, I assure you. I'll endure it for once, but depend on it I'll complain to Sir Jekyl Marlowe, in my husband's absence, in the morning; and if this sort of thing is to go on, I had better leave the house forthwith--that's all." And having uttered these dignified sentences with becoming emphasis, she sailed luridly away. "Good-night, Jane," said Lady Alice, with a dry serenity. "Don't dare, you insupportable old woman, to wish me good-night," burst out Lady Jane, whisking round at the threshold. With which speech, having paused for a moment in defiance, she disappeared, leaving the door wide open, which is, perhaps, as annoying as clapping it, and less vulgar. CHAPTER XXIV. Guy Strangways and M. Varbarriere converse. When M. Varbarriere and his nephew this night sat down in their dressing-room, the elder man said-- "How do you like Sir Jekyl Marlowe?" "A most agreeable host--very lively--very hospitable," answered Guy Strangways. "Does it strike you that he is _anxious_ about anything?" The young man looked surprised. "No; that is, I mean, he appears to me in excellent spirits. Perhaps, sir, I do not quite apprehend you?" "Not unlikely," said the old gentleman. "He does not question you?" "No, sir." "Yet he suspects me, and I think suspects you," observed M. Varbarriere. The young man looked pained, but said nothing. "That room where poor Lady Marlowe was--was so shocked--the green chamber--it is connected with the misfortunes of your family." "How, sir?" "Those papers you have heard my lawyer mention as having been lost at Dubois' Hotel in London, by your grandfather, it is my belief were lost in this house and in that room."