"Until that woman called to see me, while everyone was at the funeral." Clarice started. "Woman--what woman?" "Mrs. Dumps' daughter." "Zara Dumps--Butterfly?" "Yes. You know her as well as I do, Clarice. Sarah Dumps is her name, although she chooses to call herself Zara. She was always a most disagreeable girl, as I knew when I had anything to do with her in the Sunday School. That was before she went away to appear on the stage as Butterfly." "I never did think much of her," said Clarice, contemptuously, "and, indeed, I never thought about her at all, until I learned accidentally that Ferdy admired her." "And she admires Ferdy," said Prudence, panting, and with her dark eyes flashing. "I hate her! Oh, how I hate her! It is wonderful, all the same, Clarice, how that dowdy little country girl has blossomed into a well-dressed woman of the world." "All superficial, Prudence. I dare say she's as ignorant as ever. I know from what little I saw of her at Church festivals and school treats, that she couldn't speak English." "She speaks it very well now," said Prudence, bitterly; "well enough, at all events to tell me that I must give up Ferdy." "And you did--at that minx's bidding?" Clarice clenched her fist so that the glove split. "I would have turned her out of the house--the insolent creature. To dare to love Ferdy--to dare to address you in such a way. What did you say?" "At first I laughed at her, but when she spoke--" "Well," asked Clarice, seeing that the girl hesitated, "what did she say?" "She told me that my father had murdered Mr. Horran, and that if I did not refuse to marry Ferdy, she would tell the police." Clarice laughed derisively. "And you believed this story--a story which such a brazen girl had every inducement to tell." "Not at first, but afterwards I found proof." "Against your father? I can never believe that," said Miss Baird, very decidedly. "What proof--no, tell me first, on what grounds this Dumps woman based her accusation." "She said that she was stopping at the Savoy Hotel, with her mother, for a rest." "Quite right. I know she was. Mrs. Rebson told me. Go on." "Mrs. Dumps on that night----" "What night?" "The night when Mr. Horran was killed." "He was murdered between one and two in the morning." "Well, then, during the hours of darkness," said Prudence, impatiently, "on that night, or morning, if you like, Mrs. Dumps was taken ill, and Sarah was awakened to attend to her. Sal volatile was needed, so Sarah put on her things, and went out to the chemist." "I don't believe it; the chemist would not attend to anyone at that hour. By the way, what do you say the hour was?" "Two o'clock," said Prudence, softly. "And then the chemist is a relative of Mrs. Dumps, Clarice, and would probably give Sarah what she wanted." "Sal volatile. Humph!" said Clarice, inelegantly. "Well?" "Sarah said that she went along quietly, and passed your house----"