Lady Cheriton had been lunching at the Priory, where she came at least twice a week to watch her grandson’s development in all those graces of mind and person which marked his superiority to the average baby. She came all the oftener because of the difficulty in getting Juanita to Cheriton. “My poor child will hardly ever visit us,” she told Theodore, as they sauntered on the lawn while Juanita was showing Mr. Ramsay the pictures in the dining-room. “She has an insurmountable horror of the house she was once so fond of; and I can’t wonder at it, and I can’t be angry with her. I have seen how painfully her old home affects her, so I don’t worry her to come to us often. I make a point of getting her there once in a way in the hope of overcoming her horror of the place as time goes by; and I have even gone out of my way to make changes in the furniture and decorations, so that the rooms should not look exactly the same as they looked in her fatal honeymoon; but I can see in her face that every corner of the house is haunted for her. Once when she had been calm and cheerful with me for a whole afternoon, walking about the garden and going from room to room, she flung herself into my arms suddenly, sobbing passionately. ‘We were so happy, mother,’ she said, ‘so happy in this fatal house!’ We must bear with her, poor girl. God has given her a dark lot.” Theodore had seen an anxious, questioning look in Juanita’s eyes from the beginning of his visit, and he took the first opportunity of being alone with her, while Lady Cheriton entertained Mr. Ramsay with an exposition of the merits of her grandson, who was calmly slumbering in a hammock on the lawn, unconscious of her praises, and half smothered in embroidered coverlets. “Have you found out anything?” she asked, eagerly, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Yes, I believe I have really come upon a clue, and that I may ultimately discover the murderer; but I can give you no details as yet—the whole thing is too vague.” “How clever of you to succeed where the police have utterly failed! Oh, Theodore, you cannot imagine how I shall value you—how deeply grateful——” “Stop, Juanita, for Heaven’s sake don’t praise me. I may be chasing a Will-o’-the-Wisp. I don’t suppose that any experienced detective would take up such a clue as I am going to follow—only you have set me to do this thing, and it has become the business of my life to obey you.” “You are all that is good. Pray tell me everything you have discovered—however vague your ideas may be.” “No, Juanita, I can tell you nothing yet. You must trust me, dear. I am at best only on the threshold of a discovery. It may be long before I advance another step. Be content to know that I am not idle.” She gave an impatient sigh.