She stared at it in astonishment great as Herbert's, and threw off a volley of surprise in her foreign tongue. But she was a shrewd woman. Ay, never was there a shrewder than Bianca Varsini. Mr. Sergeant Delves was not a bad hand at ferreting out conclusions; but she would have beaten the sergeant hollow. "Tenez," cried she, putting up her forefinger in thought, as she gazed at the cloak. "Cyril did this." "Cyril!" She nodded her head. "You stood it out to me that you did not come in on Saturday evening and go out again between ten and eleven----" "I did not," interrupted Herbert. "I told you truth, but you would not believe me." "But this cloak went out. And it was turned the plaid side outwards, and your cap was on, tied down at the ears. Naturally I thought it was you. It must have been Cyril! Do you comprehend?" "No, I don't," said Herbert. "How mysteriously you are speaking!" "It must have been Cyril who robbed Mr. Ashley." "Mademoiselle!" interrupted Herbert indignantly. "Ecoutez, mon ami. He was blanched as white as a mouchoir, while your father spoke of it at dinner--did you see that he could not eat? 'You look guilty, Monsieur Cyril,' I said to myself, not really thinking him to be so. But be persuaded it was no other. He must have taken the paper-money--or what you call it--and come home here for your cloak and cap to wear, while he changed it for gold, thinking it would fall on that other one who wears the cloak; that William Hall----I cannot say the name; c'est trop dur pour les lèvres. It is Cyril, and no other. He has turned afraid now, and has torn the lining out." Herbert could make no rejoinder at first, partly in dismay, partly in astonishment. "It cannot have been Cyril!" he reiterated. "I say it is Cyril," persisted the young lady. "I saw him creep up the stairs after dinner, with a candle and your mother's great scissors in his hand. He did not see me. I was in the dark, looking out of my room. Depend he was going to do it then." "Then, of all blind idiots, Cyril's the worst!--if he did take the cheque," uttered Herbert. "Should it become known, he is done for; and that for life. And my father helping to fan the flame!" The governess shrugged her shoulders. "I not like Cyril," she said. "I have never liked him since I came." "But you will not tell against him!" cried Herbert, in fear. "No, no, no. Tell against your brother! Why should I? It is no concern of mine. Unless people meddle with me, I not meddle with them. Cyril is safe, for me." "What on earth am I to do for my cloak to-night?" debated Herbert. "I was going--going where I want it." "Why you want it so to-night?" asked mademoiselle sharply. "Because it's cold," responded Herbert. "The cloak was warmer than my overcoat is." "Last night you go out, to-night you go out, to-morrow you go out. It is always so now!" "I have a lot of perplexing business upon me," answered Herbert. "I have no time to see about it in the day."