But Rhoda, who mistrusted Lady Sarah as strongly as she trusted her husband, thought that the clever little lady, who had certainly succeeded in throwing dust in Sir Robert’s eyes before her marriage, was quite capable of having deceived him by a trick. How it was managed the girl could not quite understand; but she felt sure that Jack, having been concerned in the death of Langford, was the man with the wounded hand whom she saw on his way upstairs; and she believed that the wound had been received in a struggle with the poor butler, and that, in order to avoid bringing suspicion upon himself, the young man had been artful enough to conceal his injury until the following day, when, taking an opportunity when there were several people present, he had thrust his wounded hand through the window as if by accident, and led those present to believe that the cut was freshly made. Some such trick as this Rhoda felt sure had been played, but it sickened her to think that, in that case, Lady Sarah must have been a party to the stratagem, by which Jack shielded himself and deceived Sir Robert at the same time. What was the whole truth concerning that night? Rhoda wondered. It was now quite clear to her that, by accident or by design, it was Jack Rotherfield who caused the death of the butler. If it was an accident, why had he not told the truth about the night’s events? If it was more than that, what was the reason of his quarrel with the servant? Certain dark suggestions did pass through her mind, but she would not encourage them. The thing was a mystery, an ugly mystery, and the ugliest part of it undoubtedly was that Lady Sarah was evidently in the confidence of the young man, and that he and she were still engaged together in practising a deception upon the lady’s husband. Rhoda shuddered at the thought. If Lady Sarah could deceive her trusting and indulgent husband to the extent of keeping such a secret from his ears for ten years, how was it possible to believe that she did not deceive him even farther? The best thing to be said for the volatile beauty that her friendship with Jack Rotherfield was perfectly open, that he was constantly the guest of her husband, who certainly had no doubts of the loyalty either of his wife or of his late ward. Why, therefore, Rhoda told herself, should she worry herself about the matter, since Sir Robert did not? But argue as she might, she knew that there was more in the story than had become known; and while refusing to believe that even the artful Lady Sarah could go the length of wronging the man who trusted her so nobly she knew that the wife was lacking in sterling loyalty, and that, while she might be, and probably was, careful of herself and of her position, she bestowed more confidence upon Jack Rotherfield, if she did not more affection, than she gave to her own husband.