‘I have taken her once to a theatre, and twice to evening “at homes.” The last time we were together anywhere was at Mrs. Dane’s, about the middle of May. Since then I have seen her hardly at all. I’m very much afraid you are under some misconception. Thinking your sister was engaged to marry my nephew, Mr. Lord, I naturally desired to offer her a few friendly attentions. But it came out, at length, that she did not regard the engagement as serious. I was obliged to speak gravely to my young nephew, and beg him to consider his position. There is the second dinner-bell, but I am quite at your service, Miss. French, if you wish to question me further.’ Beatrice was much inclined to resent this tone, and to use her vernacular. But it seemed only too probable that Fanny had been deceiving her, and, as she really feared for the girl’s safety, prudence bade her be civil with Mrs. Damerel. ‘Can’t you help me to find out what Fanny has really been doing?’ ‘I’m afraid it’s quite out of my power. She never confided in me, and it is so long since I have seen anything of her at all.’ ‘It’s best to speak plainly,’ said Beatrice, in her business tone. ‘Can’t you think of any man, in the society you introduced her to, who may be trying to lead her astray?’ ‘Really, Miss. French! The society in which I move is not what you seem to suppose. If your sister is in any danger of _that_ kind, you must make your inquiries elsewhere--in an inferior rank of life.’ Beatrice no longer contained herself. ‘Perhaps I know rather more than you think about your kind of society. There’s not much to choose between the men and the women.’ ‘Miss. French, I believe you reside in a part of London called Camberwell. And I believe you are engaged in some kind of millinery business. This excuses you for ill-manners. All the same, I must beg you to relieve me of your presence.’ She rang the bell. ‘Good evening.’ ‘I dare say we shall see each other again,’ replied Beatrice, with an insulting laugh. ‘I heard some one say to-day that it might be as well to find out _who you really are_. And if any harm comes to Fanny, I shall take a little trouble about that inquiry myself.’ Mrs. Damerel changed colour, but no movement betrayed anxiety. In the attitude of dignified disdain, she kept her eyes on a point above Miss. French’s head, and stood so until the plebeian adversary had withdrawn. Then she sat down, and for a few minutes communed with herself. In the end, instead of going to dinner, she rang her bell again. A servant appeared. ‘Is Mr. Mankelow in the dining-room?’ ‘Yes, ma’am.’ ‘Ask him to be kind enough to come here for a moment.’ With little delay, Mr. Mankelow answered the summons which called him from his soup. He wore evening dress; his thin hair was parted down the middle; his smooth-shaven and rather florid face expressed the annoyance of a hungry man at so unseasonable an interruption.