She felt that she had gone the wrong way to work in the first frenzy of her grief. She was calm now, more skilled in hiding her suspicion, less prone to jump at conclusions. All unknown to her, the little germ of passion planted in her heart by David's few words in the summer-house was governing her whole being. From the timid, irresolute girl, who clung to unattainable ideals, she was transformed into a woman, ready to dare anything for the sake of the man she loved, while the mere notion of marriage with Van Hupfeldt was so loathsome that she was spurred into the physical need of strenuous action to counteract it. So it was in a restrained yet business-like mood that she climbed the stairs leading to Miss L'Estrange's flat and rang the electric bell. The door was opened by Jenny. Not all the resources of pert Cockneyism availed that hapless domestic when she set eyes on Miss Mordaunt. She uttered a helpless little wail of dismay, and retreated a few steps, as though she half expected the wonder-stricken young woman to use strong measures with her. "Well, what is it now?" came her mistress's sharp demand, for in that small abode there reigned what the Italians call "a delightful confidence," Jenny's scream and rush being audible in the drawing-room. "Ow!" stammered Jenny, "it's a young lady, miss." "A young lady? Is she nameless?" "No," said Violet, advancing toward the voice; "but your maid seems to be alarmed by the sight of me. You know me, Miss L'Estrange. I only wish I had discovered sooner that you employed my sister's servant, Sarah Gissing." Ermyn was accustomed to stage situations. She instantly grasped her part; for she was fresh from the interview with David, and there could be no doubt that the unmasking of Van Hupfeldt was as settled now as the third act of the farcical comedy in which she would play the soubrette that night. "Sarah Gissing!" she said with a fine scorn. "That is not her name. She is Jenny--Jenny--blest if I have ever called her anything else. Here, you! what is your other name?" "Blaekey, miss," sobbed Jenny, in tears. "But you said only yesterday that you were Sarah Gissing?" cried Violet. "Y-yus, miss, an' it wasn't true." "So you have never seen my sister?" "No, miss." "Why did you lie to me so shamelessly?" "Please, miss, I was pide for it." "Paid! By Mr. Van Hupfeldt?" "There is some mistake," broke in Miss L'Estrange, who was a trifle awed by Violet's quiet dignity. "It was a Mr. Strauss who came here and asked permission for Jenny to have the day free yesterday in order to give some evidence he required." "Are you quite sure it was Mr. Strauss?" asked Violet, turning away from Jenny as though the sight of her was offensive. "Positive! I rented, or rather I took your sister's flat from him, and he has been plaguing my life out ever since about some papers he imagined I found there." "But you wrote to me a little while ago," pleaded Violet.